De Morte ad Vitam
by Undertaker's Madness
Summary: Co-written with Stickiebun:, my roleplay partner. Takes place after our story "Beyond Death". Maddened and desperate with grief after the deaths of Vincent and Rachel, the Undertaker embarks on a project to bring the former back to life. Having preserved Vincent's body and cinematic records, he strives to resurrect him. Eventual Yaoi. Mature content.
1. Chapter 1

De Morte ad Vitam

An Undertaker/Vincent RP (Co-writer: Stickiebun)

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. We make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.**

Chapter 1

~xox~

* * *

Years passed by after that night fate reared its ugly head and stole away the lives of Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive. Ciel had returned as Undertaker had hoped; however, the young ten-year-old had returned in possession of a demonic contract. Said demon at his side posed as his butler, who took care of every little struggle the boy would face when he took over his father's legacy.

Little innocent Ciel...his heart turned cold; his destiny: a demon's stomach. But there was nothing Undertaker could do about it. Ciel was alive; and safe as long as his contract wasn't completed.

Undertaker had begun research and experiments pertaining to bringing back the dead. His 'Bizarre Dolls', as he named them. His research was funded by a rather twisted viscount who had his own dreams of using the dolls as weapons of power. But Undertaker had only one ultimate goal when it came to his Dolls.

One very _special_ doll.

And he wouldn't stop until he got it...no matter the cost.

~xox~

* * *

_It's a strange twist of fate, that the son of my dear mortal lover should hold in his small hands the very locket that houses his father's cinematic records. After the conflict aboard the Campania and my subsequent failure to rid the boy of his demonic guardian, I should have sought out Ciel Phantomhive and liberated my belt of treasures from him. However, I feel it will be safe in his hands for some time. Ciel is far too determined to discover the "how's" and "why's" of everything—a thing which hasn't changed much since he was an ankle biter. He'll hold onto my locket collection and he'll try to glean clues about me from it. I'm content with that. Ciel will unwittingly keep his father's very soul safe for me, until my work is perfected and the time comes to retrieve it. _

_I must keep a low profile...or at least as low a profile as my work will allow. Dispatch is now aware of my experiments, and they will try to intervene, if they can. I'll reap them all like wheat if I have to. I'm close...so close to perfecting my efforts. The school boy was able to speak on his own. He demonstrated the first hint of true sentience I've seen in a dollie, since I began making them. I must build off that; take what I did to enable that and improve it. One day, I'll be able to bring a dollie to life with complete awareness, with its old personality and most—if not all—of its memories from before death. When I can do this, I know I'll be ready for my crowning achievement...and I'll have my beloved back._

_-The Retired Reaper_

~xox~

* * *

"My grim little bird!" A dramatic voice interrupted Undertaker as he wrote in his journal, "I've just heard what happened at my dear Nephew's school. Your work—it was interrupted?" The Viscount Druitt, dressed in all white as usual, asked, twirling into the room.

The Undertaker glanced up from his journal, absently marking his place before shutting and locking it. "Only temporarily, Lord Druitt. Just a minor setback."

He pocketed the journal and stood up, approaching the flamboyant blond man with barely a whisper of sound. The smile that stretched his lips wasn't quite friendly. "And on the subject of winged creatures, I'm more akin to a bat than a bird."

The man shivered. "I don't like bats." he shook his head, "I simply wanted to know if my investment is still a good one. Word of your little Dolls is starting to spread." He draped himself over a plush leather chair. "I heard you got one or two to talk?"

The mortician nodded. "Indeed, my lord. Sadly, I had to leave him behind on account of a meddlesome young Earl and his butler. I do recall exactly what I did to enable the power of speech, however. I intend to build on that and see how far I can take it with the next subjects."

He took a seat on the sofa across from the Viscount and he crossed his legs, relaxing in the cushy, expensive piece of furniture. He watched the diabolical yet oddly charming mortal with quiet amusement. Druitt could wear on the nerves with his chatter at times, but for the most part he was entertaining. "When do you expect the next delivery to arrive for the laboratory?"

"Tonight. I pulled some strings after you left Weston. So, How far are you trying to take all this? It's all already quite impressive, even without speech."

The Undertaker tapped his nails slowly on the arm of the sofa. "As far as I can, friend; until I'm convinced I can go no further."

~xox~

* * *

With a loud groan, a young blond reaper stretched and stood up. "Too much overtime lately..." With a sigh, he scooped up a pile of paperwork for the investigation he was working on. He turned and walked down the hall to his Boss's office. A silver nameplate on the door reading "_William T. Spears. Dispatch Supervisor_".

He knocked on the door and opened it, "Sir? I updated all the reports."

William glanced up from his paperwork, and he nodded at the organizer box on his desk. "Put them in the 'to be filed' slot, if you please. I shall review them when I've finished this stack from Sutcliff."

He sighed as he said the name of their redheaded colleague. Grell found numerous ways throughout the day to find his last nerve and jump on it repeatedly. It didn't help that he'd suggested William prod him with his pole for added incentive to perform better...and right in front of a district manager, too. While Ronald's addiction to partying could be troublesome, it was nowhere near as problematic as his mentor's endless quirks.

William's thoughts immediately went to the night he'd pulled them both out of the ocean, after the luxury liner sank. He looked up at the approaching young man as Ron put the stack of reports in the requested slot, and he wondered at the peculiar feeling of relief he'd felt when he got confirmation that he was still alive. The boy looked tired. William had to give him credit; he'd been trying extra hard to garnish his favor since the disaster aboard the ship. Grell, on the other hand, remained unrepentant for his failure to bring the situation under control.

"Take the rest of the afternoon off, Knox," instructed William, his refined features aloof and unreadable.

"Really?" Ron looked up at William. It was unheard of to be able to leave work early-especially junior reapers like him. "I can go home early?"

Normally he'd be excited and would rush out and to one of his favorite pubs, but he was tired. maybe he'd take a nap before going out to enjoy his evening.

William was faintly surprised by his own generosity as well, but he didn't allow it to show in his expression. "You're clearly exhausted, and an exhausted reaper makes mistakes that this organization cannot afford. Please keep it in mind that I'm making an exception this time because you've completed your work for the day and I want you sharp and alert for the Undertaker case. If I find you've used this time off to party rather than get the rest you so clearly need, there will be consequences."

He said the last in a chill voice that left little doubt those consequences would include more overtime and fewer breaks on the clock.

"Drinking while exhausted would just make me pass out anyway. There is no point in it. Don't have any dates planned, either." Ron reassured his boss. "Thank you, sir."

William inclined his head gracefully. "You may go, Knox. Enjoy your respite and be sure to arrive on time for work, tomorrow."

He returned his attention to his paperwork, dismissing the younger reaper. From his peripheral vision, he saw Ronald scratch his head before heading out the door. William glanced up just as the blond disappeared behind it, and he again pondered his own generosity. Yes, Ronald had endearing qualities about him, but the same could be said of many reapers. It wasn't like William T. Spears to cut anyone slack, and he blamed it on his own exhaustion. Since the Campania, the organization had been in a scramble to locate the rogue deserter and bring him into custody before he could meddle further with the natural order of life and death.

William sighed and propped a chin in one hand. He'd always respected the Undertaker...even looked up to him. He'd heard stories of the sort of reaper he'd once been, and he'd always aspired to earn such a shining reputation himself. Now he was forced to track down the ancient so that he could answer for his crimes.

Were he not so rigidly invested in following the rules, William might have considered imbibing in some alcohol himself. This was going to be a long investigation.

"William~ Darling, I just saw Ronnie-boy leave early." Grell announced, sweeping into the quiet office in a flurry of red, soon draping himself over William's shoulders, his long red hair falling all around the younger man.

"Are you in a good mood for once? If Ronnie can go party early, I want to go see Sebby! It's been so long since I've gotten to gaze into his lovely red eyes."

William suppressed a groan, and he shrugged the redhead off of him irritably. "Fraternize with demon filth on your own time, Sutcliff. Unlike you, Ronald Knox had performed his duties in a timely manner and has worn himself thin doing so." He glared frigid daggers of green and gold at Grell. "He is being granted earl leave today so that he may rest up; not to find a party. If you desire an early day, then you must demonstrate to me the same devotion to your job as he has. Now, get out of my office and return to work."

"But I actually have news for you because I was working!" Grell pouted, slipping around and sitting in Will's lap, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "Unnie was spotted recently, darling, Posing as a principal of a public school and turning students into his Dolls~" He nibbled on the man's earlobe with expert care not to bite it off with his sharp teeth.

William got up abruptly, dumping the hapless redhead onto his rump on the floor. "Which school, Grell Sutcliff?"

"Weston Public school for boys~" He giggled, "Apparently Sebby and the brat was there at the same time." He stood up and leaned into William, "Darling, you need to learn to warn a lady before you get up."

William pondered the matter, ignoring the flirtation he had become so used to from Grell. He could send the outrageous crimson reaper to question Earl Phantomhive and his butler about it, but he suspected he would spend more time fawning over the demon than attempting to get answers, if left on his own. Ronald was already gone for the day, Alan was in the medical ward getting treatments for his condition, and Eric was with him. That left only himself to accompany Grell on this endeavor. How troublesome.

"Prepare to leave for the Phantomhive estate," instructed William. "You and I will approach the Earl and his butler and take down their statements of what occurred."

He looked at Grell suspiciously. "How did you get this information to begin with?"

"Darling, not all handsome men push me away. Some are actually nice to me and some happen to have connections~ Or more in this case; a son who got expelled because of the incident. He never mentioned Unnie, just said 'The Principal was this crazy guy with long silver hair and a wide smile'. Not too hard to know it's Unnie."

"Would you _please_ stop referring to him with pet names?" A faint scowl made its way onto his lips. "It's entirely inappropriate. As for what you do with men who allegedly don't push you away, do me the courtesy of keeping it to yourself."

He walked over to the window and he adjusted his glasses with the end of his scythe, looking out over the reaper city. "Is there any other evidence to support your supposition that this principal is indeed the Undertaker? There have been humans to fit such a vague description, you know...however unlikely the coincidence may be."

"He mentioned a dead student actually biting his son, darling. Tell me that isn't a Bizarre Doll! It has to have been Unnie!"

William raised an intrigued brow. "I want a full report of the details as you heard them, Sutcliff. If you haven't already done so, fill it out now. As soon as you've completed that, we'll pay a visit to the Phantomhive estate and afterwards, this 'Weston' boys' school. I want the name of this man, his son and any information we can get that might lead us to the Undertaker."

"Thought you'd say that." Grell reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper, "Here's your report, darling."

William took the paper briskly and made an annoyed sound at its condition. "Really, Sutcliff...I can see that we need to invest in a refresher course for you on how to properly file a report. You've been slacking off...again."

He adjusted his glasses once more, and he read over the document. When he finished, he folded the paper and pocketed it to be filed away later.

"Hmm." He turned to regard the redhead again, his features aloof and dignified despite the vague sense of excitement he felt. "Well then, let's pay a visit to the Earl, shall we?"

"It's a date~" Grell giggled, slipping his arm through William's. "And give a girl her credit! It's hard not to wrinkle paper in a pocket! I filled out the paper like you'd want it without you telling me too, first!"

William smoothly withdrew his arm from Grell's hold. "Quite. I would appreciate it if you would keep your hands to yourself and conduct yourself as a professional in this endeavor, Grell. In fact, I expect you to allow me to do the talking. It's no secret that the Phantomhive boy dislikes you as much as you dislike him."

Grell rolled his eyes, "I don't go there for the brat, anyway. Come along! No dodling! I want to be able to enjoy this as much as possible~" Grell grabbed the younger reaper's hand and pulled him down the hall and into the lift, hitting the main floor button with his hip.

~xox~

* * *

Ciel was working on his studies when his butler joined him in the library to inform him that they had two reaper visitors. The boy put aside his economics book and frowned up at him from his seat on the wingback chair. "What do they want?"

"They did not say, my Lord. But if I were to guess, I'd say it is likely about our last encounter with the Undertaker." The handsome butler said, placing the used books back upon the shelves. "Shall I see them in?"

Ciel sipped his tea and set it aside. "Yes. I'm curious as to what they could possibly want with me. Just be on your guard, Sebastian."

"Of course." The butler bowed and disappeared, returning shortly with the young earl's 'guests', the red one hanging off him in attempt at stealing a kiss, much to his annoyance.

"Awe, come on, Sebby-darling~ Why must you be so cold?" Grell pouted.

Ciel scowled at the annoying crimson reaper. "Stop that. Keep your fool antics away from my butler." He looked at William Spears. "What is this about, Mr. Spears?"

William adjusted his glasses with his scythe and he gracefully took a seat on a nearby lounger. "I apologize for my companion's behavior." He nonchalantly popped Grell on the head with his scythe, stunning him and distracting his amorous attentions to Sebastian. "We have come to hear your account of what occurred at the boys' school you attended, Earl. As we understand it, the principle matched the description of the Undertaker."

Ciel nodded gracefully. "Quite right."

"Did he allude to you any of his plans?" queried the reaper.

Ciel glanced at Sebastian, silently warning him not to give anything away. He shrugged elegantly. "He is a madman. He does as he chooses; regardless of any societal expectations. He certainly didn't inform us of his next move; else we would already be going after him. Don't you Shinigami have ways of tracking your own kind?"

William bowed his head, and he smacked Grell's hand when it began to inch toward Sebastian again. "We do, but the Undertaker has learned to elude such measures. That is why we came to you, Earl. I would appreciate it if you would share with us the details of your last encounter with the fugitive."

Ciel shared a smirk with Sebastian. "And what's in it for me?"

"The satisfaction of taking down someone who betrayed you, as well as the gratitude of the Reaper establishment."

Ciel pondered the offer, his blue gaze dropping to the book in his hands. "I would like to think on it," he murmured. Looking up at his butler, he kept his features blank. "Show our guests out, Sebastian. I will contact them with my answer once I've thought it over."

"Sorry, sweetie. Not happening." Grell giggled. This was where his lusts came in handy. William would likely leave it there, likely making the whole trip a waste of time.

"I'm not leaving until we know what you know. Don't worry, I'll keep Sebby company the entire time~" He hopped up, embracing the demon with both arms and legs, holding him tight and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, leaving behind bright red lipstick kiss mark.

"Sutcliff. Remove yourself." The butler said flatly.

"Nope~"

William groaned inwardly and deftly stepped aside as the demon butler's eyes lit up from within.

"Oh Bassy, why do you still deny the heat between us?" Grell demanded passionately. "There is no shame in our love!"

Ciel stared coldly at the crimson reaper. "Sebastian, you have my permission to employ violence, if you must."

"Darling, that'd only excite me~ Ah~ Ignite the fire of our passion~" Grell chirped.

William took another prudent step back as the butler's gloved hand closed around Grell's throat.

"Then I suppose you'll enjoy this quite a bit," said Sebastian; and then he peeled the redhead off of his tall form and threw him like a rag doll across the dining hall. Grell crashed into the wall with a shout of protest—or was it delight? Sebastian smoothed his suit and began his advance upon the stunned reaper, a cruel little smirk adorning his mouth. "As I recall, you can be quite the screamer, Mr. Sutcliff. I must admit I rather enjoy the sound of your pain."

Realizing this could turn into a full-fledged brawl if he didn't put a stop to it, William sighed and extended his death scythe, blocking Sebastian's way with the pole. "Pardon me," he announced politely when the demon paused and looked at him, "but we did not come here for a fight; regardless of my associate's behavior. Grell Sutcliff, do pick yourself up and come along. The board will not be pleased if word reaches them that you sabotaged a peaceful mission with your loathsome advances."

"But Will!" Grell hopped up, "Things were just getting interesting!"

"Indeed, I was about to rid the world of an annoying pest." Sebastian stated. "Take him with you, but please leave him behind next time you choose to call."

"I'll keep that in mind," said William coolly. He gave a cordial bow to Ciel. "We shall await your correspondence, Earl. I would advise you not to wait too terribly long to contact me, if you do happen to have information that could lead to the fugitive. Time is of the essence."

Ciel inclined his head calmly in acknowledgment. "I will consider that. Sebastian, show our guests out."

"It's no fun visiting my darling Sebby with you tagging along, Will!" Grell complained loudly as they were shown out.

"I suspect it would be a short visit, without me to keep you in check," sighed William. It had been a mistake to bring Grell along; he saw that now. Hopefully the boy would overlook his crass behavior and have the sense to cooperate.

~xox~

* * *

He held out a pallid, nearly colorless hand to the blindfolded young woman, his mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin. She reached out instinctively for the hand, knowing her master immediately. He helped her rise stiffly from the coffin and he supported her as she stepped out of it on shaky legs.

He bent over her to murmur into her ear as his companion watched. "Now, my dear; tell me who you are."

Her face grew tense as she struggled to comply with his order. "I…I…I…"

The Undertaker's eyes flashed beneath his long, silver bangs, and his grin changed from anticipation to excitement. She had self-awareness. None of the other dollies before her had any concept of '_I_' or '_me_'. The boy from the school was the closest he'd ever come to bringing a body back to life with a concept of what it had been before death.

"Take your time, love," he encouraged. He stroked her tangled brown hair back from her waxy, stitched forehead. "Think back. What did your family call you?"

"M-m-my family," she repeated in confusion, bruised, plush lips tugging into a frown of concentration. This one didn't have her mouth sewn; the mortician had perfected his art to leave fewer scars and stitching. "Pa…Papa?"

The reaper shook his head. "No, I'm not your Papa, little lamb. I'm your guardian—your keeper. What name did your Papa call you by?"

She thought on it some more, drawing a ragged breath with which to speak. Her lungs only needed to function so that she could make sounds, now. Oxygen was no longer a requirement for her. "I am…I w-was D-D-D…"

She trailed off, her cold hand grasping the Undertaker's harder as she fought to get the name out. "D-Daria."

Aleister Chamber sat up straighter in the chair he was watching from, his violet gaze flicking to the Undertaker questioningly as the tall, retired Shinigami visibly tensed with excitement. The Undertaker nodded in satisfaction, quite obviously thrilled with this newest development. "That's right, my dear," crooned the mortician. "You are Daria Lanchester. Do you recall what happened to you?"

Her mouth opened and closed, and she moaned. "D-drowned," she choked. "P-please…don't m-make me…remember!"

Undertaker wasn't completely without sympathy for the doll. He was lucky they brought this one to him before her cinematic records had been collected or faded. This was the furthest he'd ever gotten before, however, and he couldn't release her from this life just yet. He needed to study her; improve the process and then, if she still wanted release after he'd learned all he could from her, he would grant her desire.

"It's very important to me that you recall the details, Daria. We can stop for the night and allow you some rest, but I can't grant you _eternal_ rest for a bit. There's much work to be done…_exciting_ work that will bring about fantastic things. You won't defy your master, will you?"

She whimpered and shook her head, well-aware of her position. Undertaker smiled and scooped her up easily to lay her back into her coffin. "Very good, my dear." He settled her into the casket and he waved a black-nailed hand over her blindfolded eyes. "Sleep now, Daria. Your rest will be free of dreams or nightmares, and you should be strong enough tomorrow to proceed further."

She immediately settled down, her chest going still as she fell into the sleep of the undead. The Undertaker closed the lid and secured the lock—both for the safety of the mortals he was working with and to ensure nobody tampered with his latest breakthrough.

~And what would your beloved Vincent think of you now, if he could see the dark things you've been up to for his sake?~

The question sprung unbidden to the reaper's mind as he turned to face his associate, and his smile faded a bit. Indeed, what would the man he was trying to revive think of the reaper he'd become during his absence? For that matter, how would he react to being brought back to life…turned into an immortal creature neither dead nor alive? Undertaker wasn't delusional enough to believe the man would be grateful and happy at first, but his grief had driven him to desperation and sunk him further into a state of madness that he'd never quite crossed before.

Shaking off his doubts, he forced the smile back onto his lips. "Well, Viscount; what do you think?"

"I'm wondering what purpose it is to have them remember...speaking is one thing. they could be used as spies as well as weapons, but remembering their pasts?" Allister tilted his head questionably, but there was a real interest on his face.

"The ability to recall who and what they were in their past lives is part of my side project," answered the mortician. "Not to worry, chap; I reserve that little feature for my special subjects. Those I manufacture for you will be blank slates—though a bit more intelligent and self-aware than the previous dollies. Can't have them _too_ lucid for your purposes, can we?" He winked. "After all, if they can talk and have a will of their own, they might slip the leash and go chirping to the authorities."

The noble raised an eyebrow, "Personal project? I hadn't been aware you were working on such a thing. For what purpose are you making yourself some little birds, might I ask?" He stood up and strolled over, flamboyantly flipping his long blond hair over his shoulder.

"You can ask, but that doesn't guarantee an answer," said the mortician smoothly, grinning sharply at the young man. "Those details are mine to keep, and our agreement was that I have complete autonomy. It's no skin off my back if you choose to back out, Viscount. I can find my own bodies to work on, if necessary. Your coffers simply make it a bit easier for me to obtain my goal."

"Yes, yes, of course. But you can't blame me for being curious. Your private life seems so non-existent. All you do is work."

The Undertaker turned back to the coffin; his strange, hidden gaze intense on it. "All I _have_ is work, my dear Viscount. That, and laughter—which is harder to come by these days than ever."

He started to cackle; darkly amused by his own pathetic situation. The reaper he once was never would have resorted to such measures to reclaim the love of anyone...let alone a mortal. He'd known Vincent's life was fleeting when he allowed himself to sample his lips and body. He'd known it was temporary. He had gone into the arrangement with full knowledge that he would lose him, thinking he could keep his heart separate from his lust.

"So much for that, old fool," he muttered beneath his breath. A part of him was still sane enough to know what a mistake he would be making, if he succeeded in bringing his human lover back to life. A bigger part of him was too selfish and far-gone with madness to care. He'd given enough to the world of the Divine and the Flesh. It was long past time for him to get something in return for it. His only doubts lay in how Vincent would react, when and if he succeeded.

~xox~

* * *

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

~xox~

* * *

"Sir?" Ronald slipped into William's office a week after he'd been given time off to rest back up. It had been another long day, and William had been in his office for twelve hours straight.

The blond carried two mugs of tea, and he set one down for William on his desk, "You look more stressed than usual."

William rubbed the narrow arch of his brow and looked up from his paperwork. He nodded in subtle thanks for the beverage and reached for it. "We have a lot of work ahead of us, Knox. Have a seat."

"I don't like the sound of that." The blond sighed, pulling up a chair and flopping down in it, "Sounds like overtime potential."

William sighed and lifted his cup of tea to his lips. "There's _always_ potential for overtime, Ronald. You should know that, by now." He took a sip and he shifted his tired gaze back to the documents on his desk. "The Phantomhive boy is taking his dear, sweet time getting back to me and our search thus far hasn't yielded many results."

He set his cup aside and he sighed. "It rankles me," he admitted, "to have to rely on a child and a demon to fulfill my duties. Have you anything helpful to report to me?"

"...'fraid not, sir. If anything, I only know something stressful." Ron sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "We got more short-staffed. Alan-senpai had an attack and Eric-senpai rushed him to the infirmary. May be a few hours before we get them both back. Grell-senpai is running a bit late on returning from a collection as well."

William nodded. Lately, Alan Humphries' episodes due to his condition had increased in frequency and severity. When these happened, his spouse refused to leave his side and so they were both effectively out of commission. William supposed he could order Slingby to put his personal life aside and get back to work. By all rights, he probably _should_ do so, but contrary to popular belief, he wasn't completely heartless. Short staffed though they might be, he wasn't without sympathy for the couple, and he thought it was a shame that they stood to inevitably lose one of the best Dispatch agents on the payroll. He predicted that Eric wouldn't be fit for duty for some time, when the thorns eventually dug deep enough to kill poor Alan.

"Well, there's nothing for it," sighed the brunet. "We'll make due with what we have and…and…"

He put a hand to his head and frowned, suffering a moment of exhausted vertigo. The room was spinning. Had he eaten today? He couldn't recall. William gulped, feeling nauseous. He started to reach for his tea—and he kept going over. He vaguely heard Ronald call his name as he fell to the floor, and he barely felt the impact.

"Oh, honestly," he sighed in exasperation, struggling to pull himself back to his feet and into his chair. He collapsed again, his arms too shaky to support his weight as he tried to rise.

"Fucking shit, senpai!" Ronald hurried to the older reaper's side, checking his condition as best he could. "Shit, did you even eat today or anything?" He asked, trying to remember if he saw William leave his office at all. "...And people say I'm an idiot...come on."

He heaved William up. He couldn't carry the man bridal-style so he half-carried, half-dragged his boss towards the door and into the hall, making his way towards the infirmary, "You work too hard." he scolded lightly as he waited for the lift doors to open, "Stress out too much...breaks are okay to take once in a while."

William's head lolled on his shoulders with his fatigue. In the back of his mind, he was frightfully embarrassed to demonstrate such weakness in front of Ronald. Maintaining a cool, strong professional demeanor was a technique he'd used for years, and to be this vulnerable before a reaper that he admittedly found attractive—and even a bit endearing—was an insult.

"I'm fine," he insisted, even as his feet dragged. The lights seemed too bright, and he closed his eyes. His face turned toward the shorter man's cheek of its own accord, and his lips brushed against Ronald's smooth skin as he spoke. He found it…pleasant. "I just need…a moment."

He wasn't even sure what he was saying. He was starting to black out, and he stubbornly clung to consciousness. He heard the voice of one of the medics asking Ronald questions about his condition, and he wondered how they'd reached the infirmary so quickly.

"I'm just a bit overworked," he tried to say, but his words came out as a tired mumble.

"Bollocks. You are not 'fine'." Ron said, laying William down on one of the infirmary beds, "You are finally over-worked and over-stressed and it's about time you get some proper rest. I was worried this would eventually happen." He sighed, "I'm going to run out and get you something to eat."

William tried to reach for him. "Knox, I don't need—" His stomach growled loudly in disagreement as he tried to say he didn't need food, and he flushed slightly when the nurse chuckled knowingly at him.

"You can't be any good to your department if you don't take care o' yerself, Mr. Spears," admonished the nurse in an Irish accent. "Let Mr. Knox fetch something ta put in yer belly."

William sighed, his head turning against the pillow. "Very well. I have no intention of staying overnight, however."

"Of course," said the nurse, shooting a wink at Ronald that said the Director really had no choice in the matter. "We'll just see what happens, sir."

The brunet mumbled something and sighed again, fighting a yawn. "No ham," he ordered, guessing that Ronald was going to the cafeteria to get him a sandwich.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ron smiled hurrying out on his food run. He knew exactly what to get. He'd seen William bring in the same lunch most every day from a small sandwich shop just around the corner from the dispatch building.

Ordering the same sandwich, with some help from the workers who knew William's preferred condiments, he paid for the meal and rushed back to the infirmary.

"Here. No ham. Promise." he smiled, handing the bag to William.

The supervisor took it with shaking hands, barely able to focus enough to retrieve the sandwich within. He began to eat, and he noticed Ronald watching him intently from the visitor's chair he'd taken a seat on. It was making him uncomfortable…and not necessarily in a bad way. That unrelenting stare began to provoke thoughts best kept to himself.

Too well-bred to speak with his mouth full, William chewed and swallowed before talking. "What?" Remembering his manners, he tried to be more graceful. "Ah…thank you for the sandwich, Knox."

"No problem," Ron shrugged, leaning back into the chair and crossing his leg over his knee, "Feeling better?"

No, he wasn't feeling particularly better, but William nodded and fibbed. "Much. As soon as I finish eating, we can leave and get back on the case."

The dark circles under his eyes betrayed the truth and he knew it. His ears were ringing and he wasn't sure he could stand on his own, if he tried to escape the bed. Still, William T. Spears was nothing if not determined and dedicated to his work—no matter how often he complained of overtime.

Ron shook his head, "I know...I'm in no position to say this but...I think you should take the rest of the day off to rest, sir! You have literally worked yourself to the bone and it's not healthy! Please-just one day...take a break."

William tried to sit up straighter, but a wave of dizziness overcame him and he fell back against the pillow, panting softly. "Very…well," he wheezed, finally conceding the point. He really couldn't do his job in his current condition anyway. He fought against the blackness trying to creep up on him, and the nurse returned. Seeing that she had two cups in her hand—one with a pill and the other with water, he tried to wave her away. "No medication."

"Now Mr. Spears," she admonished, "ya've overdone it an yer beyond tired. This will help relax ya a bit so ya can go to sleep. It's just a mild sedative, so don't ya be giving me a rough time over it."

William sighed, shot Ronald a look that said he blamed _him_ for this, and took the offered medication. "Fine. I expect to be released the moment I wake up."

"Of course, sir," she agreed, relinquishing the items to him.

He swallowed the pill and handed the cups back to her, before taking another bite of his sandwich. He watched Ronald from the corner of his eye as he ate, and he tried not to notice how concerned he looked.

"That's a good big boss-man." Ron said with a small smirk when William took the sedative, "And don't worry about the investigation; I'll get to work on it right away and will leave a report on the progress on your desk for you to go over in the morning." He stood up and made for the door, pausing a moment and looking back as if he wanted to say more, but shook his head, seemingly deciding against it as he left.

~xox~

* * *

The ancient reaper's heart skipped a beat as his latest subject sat up on his own and looked around with a very human expression of confusion. "Where…where am I?"

A bright, ivory smile manifested on the Undertaker's face. "Where do you think you are, chap?"

The blond man turned his head this way and that, looking around in a disoriented manner. "B-basement," he said at last, his swirled green-blue eyes fixating on his creator. "But where? What…what is this place? Why am I here?"

The mortician could barely contain his excitement. "Safe…but one thing at a time, chap. Tell me your name, if you can."

"My name?" The young man's scarred face crinkled. He'd been the victim of a stabbing, but the Undertaker had no intention of telling him how he'd met his mortal demise. He waited in silence, with baited breath.

"Fredrick," said the doll after a moment's reflection. "Fredrick Wallace. Are you…a doctor?"

The Undertaker grinned again. "In a manner of speaking. How old are you, Fredrick?"

The doll thought on it again. "Twenty-two…no, twenty-three. I just…celebrated my birthday."

The reaper nodded. "Indeed. And do you recall what happened afterwards, perhaps?"

Though the young man was already pale, his skin lost further pigment and his eyes dilated. "I was…attacked. A man wanted my coin. I…I wouldn't give it to him and he…he…"

The doll clutched at his chest, where a freshly sutured new scar arched over where his heart was. "He got my face, first," he reflected, touching the stitching on his left cheek. "Then he went…for my heart. Am I…alive?"

"Yes and no," answered the Undertaker.

"What in bollocks does _that_ mean?" sputtered the doll in alarm, eyes widening.

"I'll explain in a moment," assured the reaper. "But first, I need you to tell me about your childhood."

"Why? Where am I and who are you?"

The Undertaker stared into his eyes. "I'm Death."

The doll began to cry, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Undertaker sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "Now, don't start with that. I've delivered you from death; you should be happy! You could even hunt down the bloke that put you in here…after I've gotten what I need from you."

"And…and what is that?"

The reaper tilted his head. "I need to know how much of your past history you remember. I need you to tell me everything, Mr. Wallace…everything you can recall. When you've given me the information I've requested, I'll explain your situation to you."

"I'm…thirsty," complained the doll, "and h-hungry."

The mortician offered him a pitcher of water that he'd brought down into his current basement laboratory with him. "By all means, drink. I can't help you with your hunger until you've divulged what you know to me, however. After that, we can find out what's suitable for your pallet."

Obviously confused about his meaning but too thirsty to argue, the doll took the pitcher in shaking hands and drank. Smiling happily at his success, the Undertaker waited for him to satisfy his thirst and begin talking.

~xox~

* * *

"I'm so close now," announced the mortician several hours later as he strode into the dining hall and casually took a seat at the long table. He took a serving of meat and vegetables from the silver trays lining the table and he tore a hunk of the former from a chicken leg with his teeth. He was famished by now, having spent all day interrogating his newest acquisition in the basement. "A bit more tweaking, and I'll have my process perfected."

The viscount sat at the head of the table, with a pretty young woman to either side of him. Unfortunately for these young ladies, they were bound to their seats and it was obvious that they weren't there willingly. The Undertaker glanced at them each, a flash of distaste crossing his features. He was in too good of a mood to let their plight dampen his spirits just yet, though. He could see to correcting their situation later.

"You know, Druitt," said the Undertaker thoughtfully between bites, "if your desire for female companionship is so strong, I could always make a special dolly just for you. These poor, frightened lambs can't possibly be that entertaining." He gestured at the crying, scared girls with the remains of his chicken leg, before plucking a grape from the fruit platter and popping it into his mouth.

"Little birds sing the prettiest when in a cage." the blond smiled, looking to the brunet on his left, "Isn't that right my little bird~?"

The young woman whimpered, and the viscount clicked his tongue, "Come on, sing for me little bird~"

"Ch-cheep cheep."

That's a good girl~"

Undertaker felt a flash of distaste. While he enjoyed giving people a good scare as much as anyone else, he knew what fate awaited the ladies once Druitt was bored with tormenting them. He generally tried to stay out of the viscount's affairs, and he expected the same thing in return. However, he might soon have his dear Vincent back and he knew beyond a doubt that he would not approve of this at all. He said nothing aloud; his associate had to sleep eventually, and Druitt usually kept his captives for at least a couple of days before seeing to their disappearance. He wondered how many of his recent subjects were actually victims of the viscount's sadism, and the thought made him frown. He covered it up with a sip of wine and he scooped some potato mash onto his plate.

"I hope to have it all perfected within a week; or perhaps two," the Undertaker went on casually, smiling as if he weren't plotting to liberate the viscount's captive little birds as he slept. "This one is nearly perfect."

He began to eat with vigor then, feeling half-starved.

"Oh?" The blond's eyes turned on him, ignoring the girl tied at his side, "And if you have perfected it, then how will you proceed?" He lifted his glass, looking at the light from candles on the table's center through the deep red wine.

Undertaker grinned and swallowed his food. "Why, I'll create my masterpiece…along with the agreed number of dollies for you and your associates, of course. This process isn't for them, though. You could never fully control an army of fully sentient dollies with their own free will, of course."

"I am still wondering about this masterpiece of yours. Why it seems so important to you that it has free will." He gave a dramatic sigh, "It's much more fun to cage them up than to let them fly free~"

"That's a matter of opinion," said the reaper as he reached for his wine. He took a swallow and he considered the half-finished meal on his plate. He'd already tested his newest dolly to see if he could stomach ordinary food. That was the one problem he'd found; he still craved human flesh. He didn't really care one way or another what the doll downstairs ate, but he didn't want to condemn Vincent to a lifetime of cannibalism. He needed to do more work on the cerebral cortex, to correct the issue with taste receptors and appetite. Once he could achieve that, he could bring his love back nearly whole. The man in the basement seemed to have nearly all of his memories, when his testimonies were compared to the cinematic records that Undertaker had reviewed.

"I'm perfecting this process for my own reasons," finished the reaper. "Call it curiosity, my dear viscount. I'd like to know just how far I can go."

He still had no intention of confiding in the man and telling him about Vincent. Amusing as he could be, Druitt was not a man to be underestimated. The Undertaker had told no-one about the perfectly preserved Earl he kept in special storage, or his ultimate intentions for him. He lifted his glass and he smiled.

"Cheers, Viscount. Here's to your pleasure and my success."

"Oh, if you insist~" The man downed his drink and returned his attention to his two 'birds', and leaving the reaper to his thoughts.

~xox~

* * *

After finishing his dinner, the Undertaker returned to his lab and began his work on his latest acquisition, deciding he was best off building his research off the most successful subject, he put the doll under and began testing. Brain surgery was quite a tricky field in this day and age, but he'd had thousands of years to study and learn his way around the human body. His long years of experience made him more adept than most modern surgeons, and he probably could have made a living as a doctor to the living, had he chosen to do so. Having access to mortal psychology and physiology that no human of the age could match, he believed he had a fair chance of eventually correcting the flesh craving issues.

He was so consumed with his work that he didn't realize how much time had passed until he heard the cuckoo clock in his lab go off at the hour of midnight. He looked up from the open skull and exposed brain he was working on, blinking through the glasses he wore to aid his sight. They were no Shinigami glasses, but they aided his vision enough for him to see clearly up close for delicate procedures.

"Oh dear," muttered the Undertaker when he realized what time it was. The viscount was likely in bed by now, and with any luck, he'd left his little "birdies" caged up and still alive for the night. With a sigh, the reaper closed his doll's skull and pulled the scalp back over it, before wrapping it up with bandages rather than suturing it. There was no point to suturing when he intended to operate each day until he got the procedure right. He checked the drip bag to ensure the doll would stay under, and he removed his gloves and glasses to wash up.

Unfortunately, he'd been wrong about Druitt's attention span. When he snuck into the holding area in the basement where the viscount always kept his captives before killing them, he found the giant iron birdcages to be empty. There was no sign of the girls, and it looked as if the room had been recently cleaned up to await the next victims.

"Perhaps I'm not too late," he whispered hopefully. "They could be in his room, still alive though worse for the wear."

He didn't truly believe that himself, but he'd done enough foul things as it was, and he wanted to at least do right by those girls, for the sake of his lover's memory, if nothing else. Undertaker went back to his laboratory to seek out the skeleton key he had hidden, and he found the bodies of the two women in there, wrapped up and bloody on the floor. Druitt's henchmen must have delivered them while he was checking the holding area. He wasn't worried about them snooping around; nobody in this house—including the master—had the gumption to dare. They all feared and respected him too much to risk being turned into a dollie themselves by invading his privacy or offending him. They must have dropped off the fresh bodies for his collection and gone quickly, probably relieved that he wasn't in the laboratory.

The reaper stepped over the bodies, his boots touching down lightly on the floor as he frowned down at them. A sigh of regret passed his lips. He had no compunctions about turning bodies brought by the morgue, regardless of their cause of death…but these lost little lambs had been murdered under his very roof. He hadn't even sensed their deaths happen, because he was so obsessed with his work on his recent sentient doll.

Undertaker shut his eyes briefly, before closing and double-bolting his door to ensure nobody would come into his laboratory again without his invitation. He went over to the far southern wall and he found the hidden impression in it. He pushed in on it and a hidden panel opened up, revealing the special coffin he kept in there. He opened it up and a bone-chilling white mist flowed out of it. When it cleared, he could see the pale, still features of his lover. He might have been asleep; his handsome features looked so peaceful. Vincent hadn't changed during his time in stasis.

The reaper knelt down before the coffin and he rested his hand over one of the cadaver's cold, ones, folded serenely over his chest. "How disappointed you must be in me, Vincent," he murmured. "I wonder sometimes if it's really a conscience that troubles me from time to time, or if it's merely the thought of your disapproval that brings this guilt."

He bowed his head and sighed again. "I always told you that death is inevitable for all mortals, and we can't weep for the empty shells they leave behind. I know you would have wanted me to save those girls, however. I meant to, love. I truly intended to spirit them away in the night and deliver them to safety…but I misjudged how much time I had."

He could practically hear Vincent's voice in his ear as he imagined his response. _~"Perhaps, but the least you could do is give them a decent burial…not turn them into one of those abominations you've created."_

He visualized the disapproving look on the Earl's comely face, and he sighed. "Right. Abominations. What I intend to turn _you_ into, if I get the chance."

He began to suffer doubts again. He didn't know if he could bear Vincent's hatred when he woke up and discovered what he'd been made into. Perhaps he should just…let him go. He looked at his deceased love again and he shook his head, his eyes stinging with tears he hadn't allowed himself to cry since the day he found him in the manor, lifeless in a burning room.

"I've come too far to stop now," insisted the reaper. He lifted the Earl's limp hand—a result of the preservation process he'd used to prevent rigor mortis and keep his body free of decay—and he kissed the top of it. "I can't give you up, my dear. Despise me if you must when you come back to life; I'll even let you cut me down with my own death scythe if you must…but I have to finish this."

He gently laid the hand back down and he leaned over to place a kiss on the cold, still lips. "But I promise you, those girls won't walk amongst the bizarre dolls. I'll pretty them up, give them their last rites and consign them to the ground…just as you would want."

Having sworn his vow, he stood back up and closed the coffin, sealing it and locking it tightly before stepping out of the nook and closing the secret door again. He wasn't smiling as he turned to the bodies to assess how much work he was looking at.

~xox~

* * *

Ciel sighed, leaning back in his chair as he held up a chain of delicate mourning broaches-Undertaker's chain. He had grabbed it during their scuffle on the ill-fated ship The Campania and had been told that it was the crazy old fugitive's treasure.

The man was a reaper, and from what the young earl could tell, was as old as dust. It surprised Ciel in two different ways that the man had such trinkets.

On one hand, it was surprising that there were so few lockets on the chain. Living as long as the ancient reaper had, the boy would have thought there would have been more special people in his life than the mere handful that these few charms represented.

On the other hand, however, to a being that lives forever, why even bother getting close to those who held such short, fleeting lives? Why care about them at all?

Maybe most of these were fallen reapers that had been killed?

Whatever the reason for them, whomever they had been to the crazy old man, they were important to him. And he was sure that the reaper would not abandon his treasure forever. He'd be back to take it. He'd face Ciel and his demonic butler at least once more...and they would be ready for him.

The question was, however, was he to share this information-this secret with the reapers? It was risky. This chain was the only bait they had to catch the old god of death. If the reapers were to take it from them to bait the man themselves...no. He needed to be the one. He and Sebastian.

If he let Spears know about this...he'd have to know first that he could trust the man to work with _his_ plan, and not get in the way.

Sighing again, Ciel shifted his thought to another issue-or two. First off, was the locket belonging to Claudia Phantomhive...and the other...the fact that every single locket had a name on it-every one, except one. The one that held a strangely familiar feel to it... A comforting presence. One that tugged at the boy's heart whenever he let his guard down.

But why?

There was a knock at the door, and Sebastian stepped into the office. "Master, Director Spears of the reaper Dispatch is on the line for you. I presume you've disabled the ringer on your telephone in here. What shall I tell him?"

The boy sighed, setting down the chain of charms and looking at his butler a long moment. "I still haven't decided on whether or not we should let the reapers in on what we know. I don't know if we can trust them."

"Of course we cannot trust them, my lord." Sebastian smirked. "But their assistance may prove useful in learning the answers we seek. You could use them to help us ensnare the Undertaker and discover the history behind those lockets, or we could continue with our own investigation and leave them in the dark. You could even mislead them in another direction, if you prefer to keep them out of your way. The choice is yours."

"I don't want them getting in the way or taking over. But the man needs to be dealt with, and he's already proven to be able to slip through your fingers twice now."

Sebastian arched an elegant, black brow. He could have reminded his master that the Undertaker was no mere mortal…nor for that matter was he the average supernatural. It didn't become him to make excuses for himself, though. "Of course, master. Will you speak with Mr. Spears, or shall I brush him off for a later time?"

The earl sighed, resting his chin on his palm as he thought, "Call him over, I suppose. I'd hate for him to send the red thing out here to bother us if we take too long."

"Agreed, sir. I will see to it that brunch is served when he arrives, and I shall make it clear to him that Mr. Sutcliff is not welcome to join him…though I daresay after their last visit, he wouldn't be especially keen on bringing him along anyway."

"I doubt that'd make a difference. The man is uncontrollable-and he's infatuated with you. Just keep an eye on them when they get here." he stood up, "With any luck Spears will come alone."

Sebastian inclined his head. "One can hope. Should you require anything before our guest arrives, I will be in the kitchen overseeing brunch." The demon bowed gracefully and left Ciel alone in his office.

~xox~

* * *

"Ronald. Wake up."

William nudged the young man dozing in the visitor chair by his infirmary bed. When he got no response, he considered slapping his cheeks but he decided against it. Knox had stayed by his side all night long, according to the nurse that came in an hour ago. The doctors were convinced he was rested enough to be released, and William immediately changed back into his work clothes and called the Phantomhive estate. Now he found himself standing over Ronald Knox, wondering when he'd come back in the evening before, and how late he'd stayed up on the investigation before deciding to wander back here instead of going home to his flat. The blond appeared to be sporting some shadows beneath his eyes, too.

William reached out and stroked aside a wisp of yellow-blond hair that had fallen over Ron's eye, and before he knew what he was doing, he traced the smooth line of his cheek. His fingertips skimmed down to the parted lips and he found them very soft to the touch. Ronald snorted in his sleep and William jerked his hand away as if burned, blinking like one who'd caught himself nodding off.

Just what in the hell was _that_? He'd been contemplating kissing a subordinate…a young reaper he was trying to groom to reach his true potential. William cleared his throat and nudged him with his shoe again.

"Ronald Knox, wake up. We have a meeting to attend."

The boy moaned, shifting to hide his face in his folded arms, "Dun' wanna go t' school...th' cake's n fire...get...mmm...cheese..." He mumbled.

William's lips twitched. "I have no idea what you're dreaming about, Ronald, but you must wake up." He shook him...gently. That damnable urge to kiss him was back full-force again. "Don't make me ask again."

_~Else I might forget you are my subordinate and do something we'll surely both regret.~_

It took a few moments longer, but finally the younger reaper blinked his eyes open, a confused frown tugging his lips, "...Where..Senpai?"

William lifted a brow. "And whom else would I be? I need you to come with me, Ronald. Ciel Phantomhive has agreed to discuss the situation with the Undertaker with us and perhaps, if we are persuasive enough, they'll aid us. I dare not alert Grell to this meeting. His presence would only hinder negotiations. That means you have to keep silent about it as well, understand?"

Ronald groaned, "I'd rather sleep than deal with that brat and his smirking crow-servant again..." he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

William could sympathize with that, but he had a job to do. "We'll both just have to set aside out distaste for the greater good. Come now; we'll have a coffee before we go."

The boy groaned and pushed himself up, "Stupid old geezer doing stupid law breaking and making me loose sleep to talk to a stupid kid and demon..." he complained.

William smirked slightly as he turned his back on the complaining blond. "Just keep our objective in mind. The sooner we locate and detain the Undertaker, the sooner you can stop complaining about his antics."

~xox~

* * *

"Master, our guests have arrived," announced Sebastian as he poked his head into Ciel's office. "Shall I bring them in here, or would you prefer to take audience with them in the parlor?"

"I'll meet with them in the parlor." Ciel said, standing up, "I'll be right with them."

He paused, eying Undertaker's lockets before pocketing them, unsure yet as to whether or not he'd share it with the reapers.

"Very good, sir." Sebastian paused before leaving the room, his crimson gaze narrowing on the lockets. "If I may suggest it, you might want to consider keeping that prize to yourself. Chances are that if Spears sees it, he will demand it be handed over to Shinigami authorities as evidence. Should that occur, the Undertaker will have no immediate reason to seek us out. You said yourself that as long as we have his treasure, we have a lure to bring him to us eventually."

"Yes. Say nothing of the lockets, Sebastian. I will decide when and if to reveal them to the reapers."

Sebastian gave an elegant nod. "As you wish, my lord. I shall get our guests settled and serve them tea while they await you." He smirked. "And don't worry; Sutcliff is not with him, this time."

The boy nodded, "Good."

Ciel lingered a bit before moving to the foyer to meet with William-and Ronald, as he found out. The blond reaper was slumped in a chair, his arms crossed, and it was clear he didn't want to be there. William, on the other hand, was waiting by the window, looking out at the garden where the gardener Finny could be seen causing more damage than good as he weeded the flowers right out of the ground.

"You ought to look into having your staff better trained," suggested William without turning around as he sensed the boy's approach. He sipped the hot tea he'd been served, his narrow eyes following the clumsy movements of the boy in the yard. "It's a wonder you have any flora left at all in your garden."

"My staff is very well trained...just not for their daily jobs around here. Sebastian keeps things in order and if he couldn't handle it, he'd work more on training them. But my staffing is none of your concern."

William turned and smirked at the butler. "Yes, you do rely heavily on your pet demon. Very well, let's get to the point, shall we? You have connections to the Undertaker that we lack, and he seems fond of making appearances for your benefit. I won't bother to guess why, and I'm sure you wouldn't tell me even if I asked. Suffice to say your butler has failed to detain the fugitive, as have we. What are your terms for an alliance in this matter, temporary though it may be?"

His gaze shot to his companion and he frowned. "Knox, do take your feet off the coffee table. There is no reason to be slovenly and rude."

"I can think of plenty of reasons to be such, here." Ronald stated, "Besides, it wasn't my choice to have you wake me up early for this."

But the blond lowered his feet, anyway.

Ciel ignored them and walked over, taking a seat in a high-backed chair, "I want it to be under my terms. After all, I'm the one with the information you lack. I won't have you taking over."

William's expression tightened, but he nodded curtly. "Name the terms, Earl Phantomhive." He clenched his jaw with agitation as he saw Sebastian's smug little smirk out the corner of his eye.

"You will follow my plans and work with, not against Sebastian. And once he is caught, You are not to whisk him off to who-knows where. You will allow me to finish my own business with him."

William exchanged a glance with Ronald. "You understand that he must eventually be brought in to face Shinigami justice, I presume. We can allow you to finish your business with him, but afterwards we must bring him before his peers to stand trial. You must vow to relinquish him to Dispatch, once you're done with him."

"And what would I do with him when finished?" demanded Ciel irritably. "Our jails would not hold a man like the Undertaker."

"No, they likely wouldn't," agreed William, still in admiration of the fugitive and his clever madness. "Even in _our_ maximum security, the Undertaker won't be easily held. Are you certain that you are prepared to condemn him to imprisonment, given your family history with him? Up until recently, he's been quite loyal to the Phantomhives."

"He chose this, not I," reminded Ciel coldly. "Besides, Just because he was supposedly loyal to my father and grandfather hardly means he's been loyal to me. He's only ever given me small bits of information, usually useless in the long-run. He's lost his mind too much to be of any real help, it seems. However, that does not make him any less of a threat. He's caused the queen, and myself, quite the headache with his antics and I will see to it that he is stopped."

William nodded in satisfaction. "You seem resolute in this course. Good." He approached the boy and he offered his hand. "Shall we conclude this meeting as a success and close the agreement, Earl?"

The thirteen-year-old nodded, taking his hand and giving it a professional shake. "Now, what information do you need, exactly?"

"You described the events that occurred in the boys' school and why the Undertaker was there, but you haven't explained why it is he let you live."

Sebastian raised a brow. "What makes you think the Undertaker 'let' my master live, Mr. Spears?"

William's expression remained aloof and cool. "Because you're obviously unable to defeat him yourself, and while he's never been known to harm children, you and your master did get in his way quite a bit. My associates reported that he had the opportunity on the Campania to do the boy harm, yet he did not. He could have abducted Ciel at the very least, if he truly wanted to."

William walked back over to the window. "Lord Phantomhive, I would like to know what he really was to your family, besides an informant. Surely you have some memory of him before your parents' untimely death. How did they act around him? What makes this reaper so hesitant to do you real harm? Have you ever considered that?"

The boy fell silent, his cocky attitude fading as he frowned, "You are asking me to remember back to a very painful time in my life, Reaper." He said slowly, "A time I have long ago suppressed. I already mourned my parents, I do not wish to be reminded of that pain again. I've moved on."

"Bollocks." Ronald interrupted, "You feel the pain of that loss every day, even if you do not show it. And we need you to remember the old geezer, what he was to your family if he is so intent on not harming you. Hell, it may even help you answer some of your own questions."

Ciel glared at the blond, but leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he reluctantly willed himself to remember.

The seconds ticked by in silence, the soothing sound of the clock starting to echo in the earl's ears...and then, all at once, he found himself back in time.

He could see himself, a small boy playing with a new toy his father had brought home for him. He was smiling-he was happy. God, how long had it been since he had ever felt such a thing?

Ciel shook the thought from his mind and watched as the miniature past him got up and rushed out of the room when his nanny wasn't looking. He giggled, running down the luxurious halls, stopping to press his hands and nose to a window, watching his mother outside in the garden, walking with her sister; Madam Red. Auntie Angelina. His mother always looked happiest when she got to see her, and Ciel remembered how happy he had been when his father and mother had told him that he'd get a little brother or sister of his own to play with soon...a promise that had never come true.

A tear rolled down Ciel's cheek.

He then watched himself as he continued down the Hall, skidding to a stop outside his father's office, out of which another voice could be heard. A voice Ciel hadn't heard for years... He peaked into the office, his eyes widening as he saw the Undertaker, standing tall over Vincent.

The Earl had a smirk on his face, and Ciel couldn't make out their words, probably because his younger self hadn't been truly listening to them, but his father looked so happy... his cheeks stained red as if he'd been laughing at something the old reaper had said.

Ciel followed his younger self into the room. He could remember...that he had always liked it when the man had visited them...he had always called him...Uncle. Yes, Undertaker had been like family to him...

Undertaker was smirking, and he stepped closer to Vincent, backing him up against the window behind the desk. The action looked controlling, threatening...but Vincent only smiled, reaching up and pushing white fringe out of the man's face, knocking his hat from his head. Young Ciel picked up the hat, plopping it onto his head; unnoticed by the two men-and then, Undertaker leaned in, his lips locking with Vincent's, a muffled moan leaving them both as they held each other closer-

"Daddy?" Little him asked, and the current him gasped out, his eyes snapping open in shock.

The two reapers looked at each other with interest, and Sebastian's mouth pulled into a subtle frown. "Master, are you all right?"

Ciel's eyes were wide as he looked around the room, "No...no, that can't be right...I have to have been remembering wrong..." He gasped.

William watched the unusually flustered boy with interest. "And what exactly are you recalling, Earl?"

"...He was...The Undertaker was with my father..." The boy whispered.

"...So? Kinda obvious that the geezer was spending time with him as he was an informant or what ever." Ronald shrugged, obviously missing the point.

"I meant he was _with_ my father, you idiot!" The boy snapped. "Like how My father was with my mother! They _kissed_!"

Both of William's brows lifted. "Surely not in front of you."

The Undertaker might be careless enough to do so, but all accounts of the former Earl Phantomhive indicated that he was a discreet man and a responsible parent. He noticed Sebastian smirking and he gave the demon a scowl of distaste. Only a cretin would find this amusing.

"It wasn't supposed to be in front of me-I was three and walked in on it happening!" Ciel snapped, then turned his scowl on his butler, "It is _not_ amusing-that was my father he was doing that to! There was no way my father would do something so disgusting!"

Ronald's amused smile dropped, his arms crossing, "Sorry-but just _what_ is disgusting about two men kissing?"

"He is still a child," William reminded the younger reaper hastily, hoping to Death that he wouldn't start bringing up their personal relationship. "Young boys tend to find kissing of any sort disgusting."

Sebastian put two fingers to his lips, but it hardly concealed his quiet smile. His ruby gaze flicked to the little lord. "I rather suspect young master's objection has more to do with the shock of seeing the family informant kissing his father than gender or an aversion to kissing."

The demon's smile grew wider; one could almost believe he found Ciel's reactions endearing.

"He clearly was taking advantage of my father, at any rate! Why would anyone want such an old decrepit mortician placing his lips on them?"

"Old geezer, maybe," said Ronald, "But you humans need to learn that love has no gender. Maybe your father did want the geezer to kiss him."

"He would not!" Ciel insisted childishly. It was rare for him to show such behavior.

"I would remind my lord that regardless of personal preferences, noble-born people are obligated to wed and produce heirs," Sebastian pointed out. "Many of which only tolerate their spouses in order to procure the legacy, and it's quite common for noblemen to take mistresses or in your father's case, a consort. He may very well have been fond of your mother; he probably even loved her…but Vincent Phantomhive obviously had needs that he could not fulfill with his wife. From everything you've told me, your father wasn't the kind of man to be taken advantage of."

William looked at Ronald, a faint expression of surprise on his face. "They were lovers. That would explain why the Undertaker is reluctant to harm the previous Earl's son. It is even possible that he's taken it upon himself to safeguard Ciel, in his own strange way."

Ceil didn't like it...he didn't like it at all. The idea that he father had taken the old Undertaker as a lover? He shivered.

But then again...why else would he grow up calling the man 'Uncle'? Why else would he be considered part of the family? What about his mother? did she even have a clue what her husband had done when she wasn't around?

Ronald sighed and leaned forward, putting his weight on his elbows—which rested on his knees. "What if that is Undertaker's intent? To protect the brat? He probably had plans to do so right after the fire but instead, the kid goes and contracts with a demon. Suddenly, he can't protect him close up and he started thinking of other ways to do it? I mean, think about it! Every time we get a report about the man's Bizarre Dolls, The earl is there and somehow involved. Maybe its not him that's the problem, but him going to protect the earl from the problem. The dolls are a perfect distraction...he could be dispatching the real problem and then take the blame for whatever is going on there."

A subtle expression of surprise registered on Sebastian's face, quickly wiped away by his usual mask of indifference. He glanced at his master thoughtfully. "The theory does have merit, my lord. It does beg the question of what threat the Undertaker could be attempting to protect you from, if not myself."

The retired reaper _had_ managed to impale Sebastian with that monstrous scythe of his, aboard the Campania. He'd even said something about removing the cause of Ciel's unhappiness before it happened. He never completed the job though…and Sebastian was humbled enough by that experience to admit that he may very well have been able to, given enough time and effort. He could have at least done enough damage to sever the demon's ties to the mortal realm for a while, thus forcing him back into Hell and giving Ciel the opportunity to break the contract.

Perhaps the Undertaker chose to hold back because he thought Ciel needed Sebastian's protection more than he needed his soul to be safeguarded…which could mean that he knew who was responsible for the fate of Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive. He could get to them before Sebastian, which would remove the threat and…render the contract null and void. Failure to fulfill his part of the bargain would destroy any claim he had on Ciel's soul, unless he took it by force. The Undertaker—if this was indeed his plan—would stand between Sebastian and his meal to ensure that would not happen.

A faint scowl curved Sebastian's pale lips. Suddenly he didn't find Ciel's epiphany so very amusing, and he genuinely disliked the wacky mortician. He'd starved himself, belittled himself, enslaved himself for a taste of ambrosia that this brazen old reaper was now trying to steal out from beneath him.

Unnoticed by the pensive demon butler, William approached Ciel's desk with a new perspective, studying the boy intensely. "He's always made exceptions for you, Earl. I believe my associate may not be far from the mark. Well done, Ronald."

Ronald seemed to beam at the praise, "Thank you, sir."

Ciel sighed, "I don't need his protection. I have Sebastian's."

"Sebastian's protection comes with the ultimate price though." Ronald shrugged, "The geezer's comes for free. If he was in love with your father, then you are probably like a son to him. Or have you forgotten what love is like, little earl?" Ronald pointed out.

William felt his cheeks heating as Ronald's gaze flicked to him. He turned toward the window smoothly, keeping his back to the assembly just in case. "Let's view this in the simplest way possible, shall we? We now know that the Undertaker was involved with young Lord Phantomhive's predecessor, and by all appearances, he is reluctance to do him harm and could in fact be working to protect him. This could provide us with a lure, gentlemen."

"...You want to use me as bait?" Ciel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not? You wouldn't be any real danger." Ron shrugged, "Even if you _have_ given your soul to a demon, we reapers don't take the lives of people not on our lists. But we can make it look like you're on the list."

William nodded. "And the Undertaker has an uncanny knack for sensing it when someone is marked for death. We won't need to find a way to get word to him, if he has been monitoring you as closely as we suspect."

"Excuse me, but is that not a contradiction in itself?" Sebastian pointed out. "If you Shinigami do not harvest the souls of those in a demonic contract, why would my young master make it onto the death list at all?"

"Even those lost to you filth are documented," William explained with a distasteful look at the butler. "We simply have no records to harvest, once you've devoured the soul. Many things could happen to a fragile young boy, even one with a guardian such as you."

"And just because a soul is contracted doesn't mean we _let_ it be consumed. We do try to collect the soul when the time comes. However, you demons have the advantage and usually have taken the soul before we have the chance to show up for collection." Ronald said.

Sebastian smirked. "Perhaps you aren't as cunning as we are."

William bristled, and he started to retaliate to that but he calmed himself immediately. "We are here on a common purpose. Do put the smug attempts to goad us into an argument aside for another time, Mr. Michaelis. We can at least attempt to keep civil tongues with each other until this is over."

The butler gave a slight bow. "As you wish. How do you intend to put my young master on the death list without endangering him?"

William thought about it, his gaze flicking to Ronald. He didn't want to tell them too much about how Shinigami catalogued life records. "As an administrator, I have access to certain restricted files within the library. With my associate's help and the correct tools, I can…commit a forgery."

His mouth twisted in distaste at the very thought, but there were times when the ends justified the means. He despised violating protocol, though.

"It'll be cool. Fun stuff like this never happens!" Ronald grinned, "Extra paperwork, but worth it for the added excitement on the job."

"And you wouldn't be putting your job at risk?" Ciel asked, not particularly interested in the answer.

William adjusted his glasses and lowered his gaze thoughtfully. "With any deviation from protocol comes the risk of penalties or demotion. Given the situation, however, I find myself in a position that requires me to put the greater good above protocol."

He glanced at his blond companion. "It will require no small measure of tact and focus. Can you manage that, Knox?"

"Please!" The blond rolled his eyes, "Have a bit more faith in me. Just because I came into work late once or...thrice with a hangover doesn't mean I don't do what needs to get done on the job!"

The brunet cleared his throat and glanced meaningfully at Ciel and Sebastian. "This isn't the appropriate forum to debate your work ethic, Ronald Knox. We have a delicate task ahead of us and we must take time to prepare."

He gave a small, cordial bow to Ciel. "If you will excuse us, young Earl, my companion and I have work to do. We will contact you when everything is in order and we can discuss our course of action to detain the fugitive once it is put into motion, should he take the bait. Come, Ronald."

William nodded at the younger reaper expectantly, and he summoned a portal back to their realm. Trusting that Ronald wouldn't linger behind, he walked through it without looking back.

"Ah, That guy has no sense of fun..." Ronald pouted, standing up, "I guess I'll be seeing ya." He saluted the Earl and his demon before running through the portal as it started to close, disappearing with a flash of light.

"I trust I do not have to tell you, Sebastian, to keep your eye on them throughout this plan? I do not wish to end up on their 'list' for real." The boy stated, standing up and walking to the door.

Sebastian inclined his head. "Of course, young master."

~xox~

* * *

"William T. Spears, executive supervisor of Dispatch Management Division." William drew his identification badge and showed it to the librarian. "I have need of access to the greater vaults."

The librarian looked at the badge, then at William. "What is this in regards to, Mr. Spears?"

The brunet adjusted his glasses and answered calmly: "I believe there has been an error in our records, and I need to confirm it. If I leave it be, it could throw off our entire information base. I'm sure you know what a bother it is to sort out misplaced records, once a single one begins a chain reaction."

The librarian shuddered at the thought, and he turned the check-in book around and offered William a pen. "Sign here, please. I can give you access for twenty minutes; no more."

"That will be fine." William signed his name in neat, flowing script and he replaced the pen in its holder, before taking the key offered to him by the librarian. "I will do my best to be quick about it."

"Very good, sir."

William left the lobby and went straight to the staircase leading to the top floor. Once he was there, he approached the gilded, reinforced double-doors that closed off the greater vaults from the rest of the library. Once he unlocked them and got inside, he locked them once more behind him and he went straight to the cabinet containing the Death Bookmarks, and once he selected one of them he went over to the window overlooking the cliffs below. He opened it and he poked his head out to look for his companion.

"Knox?"

He heard a grunt off to his left, and he spotted the blond clinging to the wall like an odd species of spider. William held his hand out expectantly. "I trust you have the book?"

"Yeah," Ron grunted, letting William help him in through the window, "But next time you be the one playing monkey. A pigeon thought my head would be a good place to nest. Almost fell shooing it away." He brushed his gloved hands off and reached into the bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out a leather bound book with Ciel Phantomhive's name on it. "Wasn't easy to check this out, either, Because it's of a living soul I had to turn up the Knox charm to max. Librarian isn't into guys..."

William found himself briefly and inappropriately distracted by the thought of Ronald flirting with the librarian. It hit him like a brick, and he reacted before he even knew what he was doing. "Do you often flirt with men, Ronald?"

He felt his temperature rise in his face and he hastily took the book and turned away, carrying it over to the bookstand near the marker cabinet. He opened it up and flipped through the pages, absently scanning the life events until he came to the part that was still being catalogued.

Ronald shrugged, "Well, yeah, sometimes. But the Librarian is a woman. Hardest thing ever is to flirt with a lesbian. Strait men, I can charm, Lesbians seem immune." He stated, leaning against a shelving unit as there were no chairs he could see in the area of the room they were occupying. "I save my real flirting for after work. While at work, It's mostly to see those poor secretaries smile a little... Their jobs are so dull and they can use the pick-me-up I offer them. Helps moral and all that."

William couldn't really formulate a decent response. "Lesbians...I see. Very...interesting."

He didn't even know how to react. He couldn't seem to tear his mind's eye away from the thought of shoving Ronald against a bookshelf and having his way with him. He was a bit surprised that his thoughts immediately led him to that. He thought that Ronald would slake his desires on females, and yet he could not stop imagining what it would be like to...

William shook his head. It wasn't like him to allow personal desires to conflict with his duties, yet this annoying young reaper seemed to have a knack for bringing it out in him without even trying. He avoided staring at Ronald and he put his mind to the book before him. He placed the Death Bookmark in to stop the cinematic events in their tracks, and he considered his course of action.

"Well then, let's see what we can do to tempt our quarry. Be ready to make yourself absent, should anyone come to investigate."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Who'll come up here? Its so restricted. Most reapers serve and retire without once even touching the door. They only know you are here and you are pretty high up in rank and trust. So as long as we're quick, we should be safe."

The blond pushed himself away from the heavy shelf and walked over, popping up onto his toes to peer over his boss' shoulder, "...I've never actually got to see a record be halted like that..."

William again found himself distracted as his companion's warm breath tickled his ear. He briefly closed his eyes and called upon his discipline, lest he be tempted to turn his head and claim Ronald's lips. He found a convenient spot to halt the script before it could write itself further, and he retrieved the fountain pen to write into the book where the previous script left off.

~xox~

* * *

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

He was just finishing up with his latest adjustments to his most recent creation's brain when he felt it. The Undertaker went still, his normally sleepy gaze going wide beneath the thick fringe of his bangs.

"No." He spoke the denial in a pained voice, his pale hand pressing against his chest, over his heart. It couldn't be...but his foresight had never failed him before. He generally didn't sense the death of every mortal; if he did, he would never have a moment's piece. Those that had touched his life in some way, however...

"No," he gasped again, shaking his head in denial. "Not the little lord...there must be a mistake!"

He'd been so sure that as long as he had Sebastian by his side, Ciel's life would be safe until the day he fulfilled his goal to avenge his parents. Knowing the boy still had no idea that the monarchy was directly involved, the mortician was confident that he had plenty of time to spare before Ciel was in any real danger. Apparently, he'd been wrong. Somehow Sebastian had failed to protect him, and unless his sight was completely off, the child was dead. Undertaker knew that the demon couldn't have devoured his soul; the constraints of the contract would have prevented him from supping on his soul before he'd fulfilled the bargain he'd made.

The reaper bowed his head and stared unseeingly at the unconscious doll on his examination table. "Vincent...Rachel...your son. I meant to save him for you, but I..."

His vision blurred and he hastily wiped his eyes. "No...I need to be certain. I've been working my old bones to death and I could be mistaken."

It was possible. Perhaps what he was sensing was just Ciel in distress. It had happened before. Hoping against hope that he was mistaken, the ancient death god put away his surgical tools and left his laboratory.

~xox~

Ronald whistled and stepped back from William, "I suppose we ought to hurry back to ambush the geezer if he takes the bate, then?" he stretched and walked back over to the window, "Will we have to sneak back in to undo it, or will it fix itself? I never did quite understand the use of Death Bookmarks and pens."

William closed the book, with the bookmark still inside of it. "It will retain the information I've put into it until the bookmark is removed. Once it has served its purpose, we can return it and the book to the library."

He handed the book over to Ronald. "Keep it safe and meet me back outside. We need to return to the Phantomhive manor immediately. If this worked, I doubt the Undertaker will wait for long to investigate."

"Got it!" The blond slipped the book into his bag and leapt out the window, falling down the four stories to the ground, landing on his feet like a cat and taking off to meet William at the doors to the Library.

~xox~

Sebastian showed the two reapers right in, the moment they arrived at the door. Ciel was sipping tea in the sitting room.

"It's done," confirmed William with a nod, "and I've contacted some associates to come and assist; not Sutcliff, of course. I haven't told them the details of how we intend to lure the Undertaker here, as much to protect the integrity of their career as my own. I trust this is acceptable to you?"

The boy nodded, "As long as your men can abide by my requirement of interrogating the man before he is taken away."

"Hey, don't worry about it so much, kid, Everyone's scared shitless that Spears here would give them overtime or a pay cut if they don't take every order of his seriously!"

William sensed the presence of other Shinigami approaching, and he calmly excused himself to meet them outside. Alan Humphries appeared from the portal on the lawn, followed by Eric Slingby. The administrator greeted them cordially. He didn't quite trust any other officers to get involved in this, without asking too many questions.

"Good evening," he said once they gathered their bearings. "Your participation in this operation is appreciated."

"Evening," greeted Eric. "We thought of bringin' some recruits ta help, but given tha circumstances..."

He trailed off and glanced sidelong at the slender brunet at his side, who appeared just as curious as he was. Thankfully, they were both loyal enough and clever enough not to ask too many questions.

"Would you mind at least briefing us on what the goal is, sir?" Alan asked, "It would save us from confusion later."

"Of course," agreed William. He gave them the basic details, without mentioning how they'd sent the lure to the mortician or his scandalous past with Vincent Phantomhive. "The young Earl has in his possession an item of the Undertaker's...something he holds dear. We have staged it so that it would appear that item could be lost to him, and should he get word of this as we hope, he should theoretically come to investigate the matter. That is when we will strike, and attempt to take him by surprise. I dared not share this with any other reapers. The risks are too great."

"What about Grell?" questioned Eric. "Did yeh send fer him too?"

William shook his head, frowning. "Absolutely not. Sutcliff would be too distracted by the presence of Mr. Michaelis and his own passions, and the demon and his master have made it quite clear that he is no longer welcome on these grounds. I'm afraid it will be just the three of us and Ronald Knox, tonight...with the demon butler's aid, of course."

Eric's brows lifted. "Tha' yur willin' ta work wi' a demon is shocking enough. Will tha five of us and Michaelis be enough, do yeh think?"

"I realize it may be a difficult, close battle, but if I did not believe we could do this, I would not have bothered trying this method. You are both seasoned reapers, and two of the most capable officers in our division. At the very least, we can weaken him and then you two can call for reinforcements if it appears he's going to escape. You can say that Ciel Phantomhive contacted me when the Undertaker appeared on his property, and there was no time for me to call more reapers to this location before confronting the fugitive."

Eric held up two fingers. "Pardon me, Sir, but why cannae yeh just do that now?"

William lifted an elegant brow. "Because the fugitive is not yet here, Mr. Slingby. This is an ambush. It would appear suspicious for me to request backup on a mark that has not even arrived. Only after we have an actual sighting and confrontation can you or Mr. Humphries make that call."

Eric grinned and stroked his goatee. "I'd love ta know just wha' ye've done, Mr. Spears."

"And I would appreciate it if you did not question it further," answered William coolly, "for all our sakes. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Eric, focus on out task." Alan stated, nudging him in the side. "We'll get in position to be on the look out for his arrival, Sir." he reassured William before taking Eric's wrist and pulling him with him to take cover.

The Scotsman stumbled after his partner with a shrug, and William sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Heavens help us."

~xox~

The ancient chose an alternative route to the Phantomhive mansion, keeping to the forests peppering the hills, rather than the road. He needed to see with his own eyes...needed visual proof that the Earl was indeed deceased. He came upon the grounds of the manor and he peered at it uncertainly. It really didn't look as though a funeral had taken place yet, but perhaps it was due to take place tomorrow. There had been no announcement in the paper, yet the Undertaker knew that the household would have kept it quiet under Sebastian and Tanaka's orders, until the estate could be dealt with.

He wondered if the demon butler was still even there, for that matter. He couldn't have consumed his soul, so what was there to keep him around? The ancient shook his head, his usually smiling mouth pulling into an unhappy frown. He was distracted, and he was still a wanted reaper. Other reapers were bound to show up; if he'd sensed Ciel's death, then Dispatch surely must know about it too. He needed to stay on his toes, confirm his fears and seek out his treasure. If it was true...Styx help him, he didn't know if he could go through with his plan to revive Vincent. Learning that his son was alive and well was the one thing that might give Vincent hope and the will to go on in his altered form. If Ciel was dead...

No. He had no proof, yet. "Get your noggin out of the pit and focus, Khronos," muttered the reaper to himself. A bit startled at hearing his own voice speak that name again after so long, he giggled. "My, I never even told him."

He sighed. He'd never shared the name he'd once gone by with his lover, figuring the past was better left buried. He would have to remedy that, if he got the chance. Cloaking himself from mortal eyes and doing his best to mask his presence from supernatural senses as well, he sought out the best route to enter the grounds from the back.

~xox~

Ciel lay as still as he could on his bed, pretending to be 'dead' as he'd been instructed. It was his only real roll, after all. And if Undertaker found his way in...it may tempt him closer before he realized that the young earl was still quite alive.

But it was dull as he listened to the clock count the passing seconds.

~xox~

Mey-Rin busily dusted the shelves, trying to keep her mind off the conflict that was sure to happen in these walls. Reapers made her nervous—almost as nervous as Mr. Sebastian did. They were so mysterious, and not a one of them she'd seen so far was unattractive. Well, she supposed the Undertaker could be considered more creepy than attractive, now that she thought of it. She had only met him a few times and she assumed the face half-hidden beneath all that silver hair was disfigured by the scars. Still, she was oddly drawn to the macabre and the chills he gave her weren't particularly unpleasant.

The little maid shivered and hugged herself briefly, feeling one of those delightful tingles shoot up her spine and make the hair at the nape of her neck stand on end. "Oi, I'm such a lecherous maid, I am!"

She looked around the corridor when she felt a cool breeze, suddenly on guard. Where was it coming from? They said the Undertaker would likely take the quickest route to Ciel, but the mad old codger wasn't dense. "Crazy like a fox, 'e is," she muttered, pushing her thick, round glasses further up on her nose. "I'd best keep my guard up."

Keeping her hands low in case she needed to draw the pistols hidden beneath her skirts, she followed the draft to locate the source. The manor sure was creepy at night. The dimly lit corridors were foreboding; especially when one was alone. She shivered again with delight, in spite of herself. Finny would probably scold her for being crackers, if he knew how excited she was over this dangerous situation. He probably already did, and simply didn't want to bring it to attention.

Mey-Rin located the source of the draft in one of the spare bedrooms, at the end of the hallway. Peering in, she could see the curtains fluttering in the cool autumn breeze. Someone had left a window open. Carefully taking a candelabra from the wall and holding it high for light, she kept one hand close to her thigh and stepped into the room.

"Hello?" she called; just in case it was one of her fellow servants. There was no answer. Of course, and intruder wasn't likely to answer her back, either. She tip-toed over to the window and looked around. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she nonetheless drew one of her pistols and took a quick look outside, ready to fire on anyone she saw. There was nothing.

Breathing a little sigh of relief—or was it disappointment?—she stuck her head back in and closed the window, locking it securely. "Cor, 'ere I am, jumping at shadows..."

She trailed off, her eyes widening behind the chunky lenses of her glasses when said shadows seemed to coalesce into the tall form of a man, the moment she turned around. She started to shriek with surprise and draw her pistol, but the darkness solidified and a cool, bone-pale hand wrapped around her wrist, while another clamped over her mouth. She was shoved up against the wall and the candelabra fell from her other hand to the floor. A hard, lean body pressed tightly against hers, trapping her arm against her torso before she could reach for her other pistol. Booted feet trod over the flickering candles, extinguishing their light, and she saw the face of her assailant in the chill moonlight.

The Undertaker grinned cheerfully at her, his bangs parted to reveal his face. He was not ugly. He wasn't ugly at all. In fact, he was downright beautiful, despite the scar winding over his face. His strange eyes bored into hers and Mey-Rin found herself entranced by them.

"Evening, little maid," greeted the mortician in a dulcet, seductive murmur that wasn't a bit like the scratchy "old man" voice she was used to hearing from him. "Aren't you a pretty little cockney? But then, you aren't exactly what you seem to be either, are you love?"

She shivered and mumbled behind his hand, terrified and exhilarated at once. Creepy old man, dark angel...he was two sides of a grim coin that she couldn't help but be drawn to. A blush arose in her cheeks. She squirmed against him, trying to free herself. She could have done it, were he an ordinary man. This was not the case with the Undertaker, however.

"Now, now," chided the mortician gently. "I'll release you unharmed as soon as you help me. Look into my eyes, my dear."

Mey-Rin closed her eyes and tried to shake her head, guessing the reaper intended to hypnotize her somehow. She didn't know much about their kind yet—had only recently learned they existed—but she guessed they had all sorts of dark powers at their disposal.

"Tsk, tsk. Stubborn lamb. Seems I'll have to wing it."

The maid expected him to strike her or cut her, and she braced herself for pain. Instead, she felt his cool, silken lips press against hers in a kiss. Her eyes popped open with surprise and her blush deepened. The Undertaker drew back abruptly and he stared into her eyes, trapping her with his otherworldly gaze. She couldn't look away, and she stared back, transfixed by the overlapping irises of emerald and amber.

"Now, my dear," purred the mortician, "I need two things from you. Well, make that three. All right...four. Firstly, I need you to tell me if the little lord is dead."

"N-no, Sir," she whispered, her words tumbling past her trembling lips before she could help it.

The Undertaker smiled, and there was some relief in those riveting eyes of his. "Wonderful! Now tell me; am I meant to i_believe_/i he's dead, or was it just my tired old senses playing tricks on me?"

She tried to deny it; she really did. Despite clamping her lips shut, the words again poured out like water. "It's a...trap."

He chuckled. "Orchestrated by Ciel or Dispatch, I wonder? No matter; someone from the reaper organization had to be involved, for me to sense his 'death'. I wonder who fiddled with the records? Couldn't possibly be that Spears chap; he's far too anal retentive to break the rules by falsifying a death, that way. Sutcliff, maybe?"

He seemed to ponder the matter for a moment, and his hold on her lessened. She began to struggle again and his gaze snapped back into focus, once more enrapturing the maid. "Doesn't matter who, I suppose. Final question, love; where did your master put my treasure? You know, the chain of lockets I left in his care."

"Th-they're with him," she obliged. She bit down on her tongue, trying to stop it from wagging further. The Undertaker clucked his tongue again and he kissed away the blood that trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"Hmm, salty," he approved. "Now my dear, I need one last thing from you. I need you to come with me. The little lord might not hold your life in high regard for sentimental reasons, but you i_are_/i more than a simple maid. I think he would hesitate to waste a lady of your talents, and his allies will try not to harm you to get to me as well. Come, darlin'."

He stepped back, releasing her from his vise-like hold, and he offered a black-nailed hand to her. Mey-Rin placed her smaller, trembling hand in his and though she tried to fight his compulsion, she was, after all, only mortal.

~xox~

"He's here," William announced, his narrow gaze flicking around. "I cannot pinpoint his location, but I can sense him. He must have slipped past Slingby and Humphries, somehow. Ronald, be ready...and contact the others to begin searching the home."

Ronald nodded, "Got it." he slipped over to the window and sent out a message to the other two reapers before concealing himself in the shadows, crouching in the top corner of the room near the door. He liked having the higher ground, after all, and he could use it to his advantage.

While his companion did that, William turned to Sebastian. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you how slippery our adversary can be, Mr. Michaelis. It would make perfect sense for you to stand guard over your master, but the element of surprise would be completely lost if I were standing in plain sight."

Sebastian nodded, smirking slightly. "Of course. How it must sting you to slink in the shadows to ambush your legendary reaper."

William stiffened, but he held his composure with typical stoicism. "The Undertaker is not above the laws of Dispatch, regardless of his past reputation. Keep your barbs to yourself until this ordeal is finished."

Amusement flickered in the demon's crimson gaze, but he nodded in accordance. Annoyed but determined to put an end to this, William concealed himself behind one of the billowing curtains, seeming to evaporate as he slipped between the folds and the wall. Shortly thereafter, Eric and Alan stationed themselves outside the windows.

~xox~

"This isna' gonna work," predicted Eric with a grunt as he climbed onto the balcony beside his partner. "He'll sense us as soon as he gets in there."

"With your half-hearted attempt at concealing your presence, maybe." Alan whispered, "Stop loosing focus, and we'll have a chance at least."

Still, time ticked by without the appearance of the Undertaker, and Ronald grew bored, wondering if William had had an off-moment in sensing the legend.

Mey-Rin suddenly stumbled into the room, her glasses askew. It appeared as though a cloud of darkness surrounded her, and part of it formed the shape of crescent against her throat. She whimpered an apology to Sebastian as the demon turned to regard her with narrowed eyes, and as he parted his lips to speak, a voice came from the darkness.

"Hi, hi. Sorry to barge in like this, Mr. Michaelis, but I've come to pay my respects to the little lord...and to retrieve my treasure. Where might that be?"

The Undertaker materialized from the darkness, and he held the little maid tightly against him. The wicked curve of his scythe rested firmly against her throat and the gleam in his eyes left little doubt that he would reap her in a heartbeat, if the butler made a move against him.

"The 'treasure' of which you speak is safely put away," answered Sebastian coolly. He glanced down at Ciel; who was still maintaining his pretense and lying completely still. "I presume word has reached you of my master's demise."

"Hmm, 'demise'." The silver reaper smirked. "Funny word usage, considering the boy is no deader than his pretty servant, here." He pulled Mey-Rin closer, bending over her to lower his grinning mouth to her ear.

"How do you like that, my dear? He's trying to call you a fibber...or else he's trying to lie right to my face. Which is it, do you think?"

"M-Mr. Sebastian," quavered Mey-Rin, "I didn't mean to tell! 'E hypnotized me with his gaze, he did!"

Sebastian raised a brow. "Interesting. Well I suppose one can't expect a reaper to mistake a live body for a corpse, for very long." He began to remove his gloves, tugging them loose with his teeth.

The Undertaker chuckled. "Not for long," he agreed. "The little lord plays possum well, though. Wakey, wakey, Ciel. It was a devious trick to play on your Uncle Unnie, but my mind's not quite far gone enough to fall for it. Oh, and you may as well tell your Shinigami friends to come out as well. The one behind the curtain and the two on the balcony, respectively."

William checked a sigh. So he'd sensed them after all. As he, Alan and Eric revealed themselves, it occurred to William then that the Undertaker had made no mention of Ronald—which could either mean he hadn't yet detected him, or he was planning to toy with them. He resisted the urge to glance in the direction he knew the blond was hidden, and he hoped Ronald would remain hidden and ready.

"Well then," said the Dispatch supervisor as he too dropped his cloak. "How do you expect for this to end, Undertaker? We have our duty to bring you in, of course."

"I expect this to end with myself cheerfully leaving with my trinkets, the pretty maid to keep her life, and you chaps returning to your realm empty-handed." The Undertaker shrugged. "Pity it's probably going to end in bloodshed, though."

"Not even a legend is immune from the laws, sir." Alan said, gripping his scythe, "Why not just give in and come with us?"

"And answering a few questions first." Ciel said, sitting up, looking across the bed at the man he thought he remembered kissing his father.

"Asking me to 'just give in' would be like asking Mr. Spears to lighten up and relax," the Undertaker retorted to Alan. "Come now, lad...don't be silly. As for you, little lord, I might be inclined to answer some of your questions, in exchange for my lockets."

"Only if you are truthful." Ciel pressed, getting out of the bed and crossing his arms, "...Who was my father to you?" It wasn't what he had planned to ask, but he couldn't help but inquire about it.

"Hmm." The Undertaker tapped his nails against Mey-Rin's shoulder thoughtfully. "Are you so certain you're ready for that particular grain of truth, Ciel?"

He studied the young noble, measuring his fortitude. He was still just a child, but in a few short years he would be a man by society's standards, and Ciel already demonstrated maturity beyond his years. He'd suspected the lad might one day come to him with questions, after all. He'd always been a sharp one, and children tended to notice some things that adults often missed.

"Fair enough, my lord," said the mortician at last with a nod. "As you may have already worked out, I was a bit more than an informant to your father...and your mother, for that matter. Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive were...my friends. Dear friends. Possibly the only people I could truly i_call_/i my friends, you understand. It went even further than that, where your father is concerned. I think you're still a bit too young to hear the details, but there was a reason Vincent Phantomhive never took a mistress like other gentlemen nobles his age, and that reason was me."

"...You were his mistress." he accused, "You had him betray my mother."

"My Lord, I don't think now is the time for questions concerning that. You had other matters to ask of him." Sebastian reminded in a silken tone.

The Undertaker chuckled. "I think the word you're looking for is 'paramour', my dear. Well, it can refer to something more illicit too, but that's the closest thing to a male mistress. Vincent didn't betray Rachel, either. She knew about us." He deliberately ignored Sebastian's reminder that Ciel had other things to ask him, curious to see how the boy would cope with knowing the whole truth of his connection to his parents. "She was a gem, your mum. She had a big, generous heart and she understood she was better off than most noble wives, with the arrangement I had with your father. She loved me too, you know, and I her. Just not in the same way as Vincent and I loved each other."

He stopped and frowned, annoyed with himself. He hadn't meant to be quite _that_ detailed, but then, there was a part of him that wanted to soften the blow to the boy—make it easier to accept by admitting it wasn't simply an affair of lust. He kept watch on the other reapers in the room, relaxed only on the surface. If Sutcliff were there, this conversation would have already been cut short, he was sure. The redhead wouldn't have paused to spare the maid and he certainly wouldn't have sat there listening to this conversation. As it was, the three there now were quite good; the only reason he'd sensed them was because he came in looking for signs that they were there.

Ciel was silent for a long time. He didn't like it. He didn't want his memory of his father and mother to be different. They were gone and would never come back.

"If you loved my parents why didn't you save them?! Where were you that night?"

"Young master," Sebastian placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, but the boy swatted his gloved hand away as he approached Undertaker.

"Or do you just go down my family line saying you love us all? What about Claudia Phantomhive? Why is she on your lockets but not my mother or father? Who was she to you?"

The Undertaker was slightly taken aback, but only for a moment. "I arrived too late to save them, child, and you had already been taken. Suffice to say I failed to retrieve you from your abductors before you called on this one and bartered your soul to him." He nodded at Sebastian. "As for Claudia...ah, Claudia. That one was special. I admired her quite a bit, but don't you worry; she and I never had relations of the intimate sort. It was because of her that I chose to stay in the service of your family. I thought if her son or daughter turned out anything like her, the Phantomhives might be worth serving for a few generations longer. Your father proved me right about that."

The Undertaker's expression went pensive. "I was able to collect a memento from Claudia, but your parents...well, I was too late to do even that."

Were they alone, he might have hinted to Ciel that his father's locket was on that chain, at least. He thought it best not to do so, however. He didn't want anyone to know just how important that blank locket was, until he'd retrieved what he needed from it.

"Well then, little Earl. I've answered your questions. Will you honor your part of the bargain, or was there something else you wanted to ask me?"

"What is the blank one?" Ciel shook his head, clearly not done. "Who is it intended for? Me?"

Ronald gripped his scythe. he had been honoring their deal with Ciel to let him talk to the criminal, but he was wasting so much time. As far as he could tell, his position was safe-for now. He needed to use the element of surprise before it was wasted.

William glanced at his visible companions while the Undertaker considered his answer. He dared not so much as flick his gaze toward Ronald's hiding spot, for fear that the perceptive ancient might notice. The mortal boy was doing a fine job of keeping him distracted. They might just succeed in bringing him in, yet. He only hoped that Ronald hadn't fallen asleep somehow, tucked up over the door like a slumbering mouse.

"No, little lord," answered the Undertaker. "I haven't chosen a locket for you, yet. The blank locket hasn't been engraved because I'm saving it for myself."

It was an honest enough answer.

"Don't try to pull that," snapped Ciel. "That locket is the one you want back, isn't it? there's something special about that one-even I can feel it when I hold it."

Yes, Undertaker was getting distracted, Ronald could even see him loosen his grip on the pretty maid. Good. He'd hate to accidentally get her caught in his scythe when he made his move.

"Never said it wasn't special," corrected the mortician with a grin. "Like I said; I've been saving it for myself. They're all special though, young Earl. Each one is a keepsake of mortals I was fond of...and I've seen countless numbers passed my eyes—reaped quite a lot of them myself, too. I'd like all of them back, but if you like, I'd be willing to part with Claudia's. She was your grandmother, after all. I think she would have liked for you to have her locket, and you've kept the rest of them safe while in your care."

"The blank one." The boy insisted, "Tell me about-"

He was cut off when Ronald made his move, leaping from his perch, legs spread wide as he descended from the high dealing room, Scythe in hand. He kicked Mey-Rin's shoulder with a twist of his body, knocking her to safety as he pinned Undertaker to the ground, his scythe pressed firmly to the elder's back, his finger ready to flip on his scythe's spinning blades.

"Surprise!"

William acted immediately to help neutralize the dangerous ancient before he could recover from the attack, extending the pole of his scythe to pin the Undertaker down by the back of his neck with it. A few strands of the fugitive's long silver hair got sliced away as the blades of William's scythe fit around the nape of his neck, and Eric jumped forward to pin down his legs by the back of the knees.

"Well done, Knox," approved William. "Mr. Humphries, please ensure that he does not kick out."

"Yes, sir!" Alan said, moving to do so.

"Hey, Miss, sorry for kicking ya, had ta." Ron apologized to Mey-Rin, who was pushing herself up.

"I wasn't done!" Ciel scolded.

"Yeah, but I couldn't wait up there forever. my leg was starting to get all tingly." Ron said, "I gave you plenty of time."

Mey-Rin scrambled over behind Sebastian and wrung her hands. "They aren't going to hurt him, are they?"

Sebastian turned his head to give her an exasperated glance. "No more than necessary, I'm sure. Now if you please, gentlemen, my young master still had—"

"I can bring your father back."

The statement came down like a hammer on an anvil, making everyone in the room freeze. The Undertaker turned his head just enough to up at Ciel from his prone position on the floor, and his gaze was intense, a little desperate and slightly pleading.

"I can give him back to you, Ciel...to both of us. Your mother was beyond saving, but your father...everything that he was, I can resurrect. I've perfected it, little lord. I've perfected my methods. What do you think my Bizarre Dolls were all about? I had to see if I could, you understand? I've done it...I have a completely lucid dollie that I can show you as proof! You can see for yourself."

"Don't listen to his madness, Earl," warned the Dispatch supervisor with a frown. William stared down at the reaper at his feet with an expression of regret-stained loathing. "He is too far gone to speak any sense, let alone truth."

"I've seen your 'Dolls'. Moving corpses, one or two you could get to talk-but they were empty shells of who they had been like in life-don't you dare say you plan to do that to my father!" Ciel hissed. "He's dead! He's dead like my mother is, and like how I will be once I get my revenge!"

"...Ehh, kinda more than dead in your case, kid..." Ronald muttered.

"Ronald, concentrate." Alan said, snapping the younger reaper back to their task as he worked to bind Undertaker's wrists behind his back.

The Undertaker's eyes gleamed beneath his bangs. "Oh, little lord...I won't allow that. Death is a journey to fate, but having one's soul devoured..."

"Oh, honestly," grunted William as the ancient began to try to rise. "All of you...quickly!"

"I can show you," promised the Undertaker, and he twisted onto his back like a snake. Blood spurted as William's scythe cut into his throat—directly over the old scar already encircling it. "But, I must have...my treasure first."

The last was said in a gurgle as the flow of blood interfered with his speech, drowning part of it out. The glass to the windows suddenly shattered. The Undertaker reached out with both hands and Eric drove his scythe down into one of them at the wrist, nearly severing it. A sotoba manifested in the other one, just as a swarm of bats came in through the windows from heavens knew where.

"Young master," called Sebastian, immediately pulling the boy to him to shield him from the sudden flight of winged creatures.

He was in no danger, though. The animals went straight for the reapers. Eric swore as they flew into his hair, and he reached for his partner when he saw him stagger. William—quite accustomed to standing amidst winged creatures—ignored the bats and he yelled at Ronald. His scythe was on the Undertaker's chest, and while it would do a great deal of damage, it wouldn't be an immediate and complete death. If William operated his own right now, he might behead the ancient.

"Use it now, Knox! Operate your scythe!"

Ronald shouted over the screeching of the bats, having been distracted, "Tryin-there!" The scythe roared to life, it's engine echoing off the walls of the large bedroom chamber. Blood sprayed up, drenching the four reapers' suits.

There was a horrible grinding sound, and the Undertaker flailed for a moment and went still. William gestured at Ronald to get him to cut his scythe off, and the flair of cinematic records lit up the room. Sebastian stared at them narrowly and he tried to hide his master's view, but Ciel had already been between worlds, and he could see them.

He saw confusing images of a young Undertaker, before he was scarred. He was brandishing the same scythe he'd used against Sebastian on the ship, and his pale hair was gathered into a ponytail. He saw the first meeting of his father with the Undertaker, he saw the first kiss, he saw his mother hugging him, he saw the mortician tripping himself up and nigh knocking himself out when he got news that Ciel was being born, and he saw himself as a toddler, cradled in the Undertaker's arms, while the old reaper proved to him that there were no monsters lurking in the shadows. He saw every important event of the Undertaker's life relating to his family, including the moment when the reaper found his parents. It cut off after that, as if snapped off in mid-play.

"Enough," coughed the Undertaker. "That's all...you get."

Eric looked down at the torn figure beneath him. "Sir, he could die if we go on. His records are buried deep. Far deeper than we can go wi'out...unless we outright reap him."

William looked at the ruin on the floor that was his idol, and his stoic mask cracked briefly. "Earl, I'm afraid we cannot afford further questioning, at this time. He needs immediate Shinigami medical attention."

"And I rather not be the one to fully reap the geezer. He is an icon of our people, after all. I don't wanna be famous for killing him." Ronald said, pulling back his scythe.

~xox~

Ciel gripped the chain of charms around the blank locket...the strangly familliar one...

_'I can bring your father back'_

Tears pricked at the boy's bright eyes.

_'I can give him back to you, Ciel'_

Undertaker's words echoed in his mind.

_'I've perfected it, little lord. I've perfected my methods.'_

Wait...the locket...

_'Your mother was beyond saving, but your father...'_

Did this plain locket-the special one...

Was his father's soul _trapped_ in it? was that why he felt so drawn to it? because _it_ was his father? And all that was needed was to give him a body?

"Tch."

Sebastian glanced at the boy, and he frowned upon noticing the tears in his eyes. "Young Master, are you injured?"

The Shinigami gathered their bleeding fugitive up carefully, and the bats had long since fled the room to go back to wherever they'd been summoned from. Sebastian glanced at the reapers mistrustfully and knelt before his ward. As a creature lacking the ability to cry himself, he couldn't be sure whether Ciel was upset over the Undertaker's claims that he could revive his father, or if his tears were a result of seeing the reaper in such a bloody state.

"Do you wish for me to stop them from taking him, my lord?" pressed the demon. "I know that you had further questions for him."

"If you do, Legendary Death could very well die." Alan stated, "That was a large chunk of records that had been exposed. I understand that a deal had been made, but stopping us would only result in his death. You still won't get all your answers."

Sebastian looked at the Undertaker—whose already pale complexion had taken on a gray-ish tone—and he looked back at Ciel. "Will there be an opportunity for my young master to resume his questioning of him, once he has recovered?"

"It can be arranged," agreed William, "though not easily. Demons aren't allowed in our realm at all, and I would have to go through a ridiculous amount of paperwork to gain approval to bring a mortal boy into our detainment facilities. I may be able to grant him a ten minute visit."

"His heartbeat is slowin' fast," warned Eric after checking his pulse. "We'd best get him to a physician now, if he's to survive."

"...Save him." Ciel said, turning and walking out of the room, "Sebastian, clean up the blood. I expect a chance to finish speaking with him."

~xox~

When he woke up again, he was fastened tightly to a bed with special, Shinigami designed restraints. Undertaker groaned softly, his voice rasping in his throat. He felt the fresh sutures in his flesh as he impulsively strained against his bonds, and he lifted his head off the pillow weakly to look down at himself. He was shirtless, in a pair of hospital pants. His injuries had been dressed with bandages, and he could see spots of blood on the dressing wrapped around his torso. He was curious to see the condition of his wounds, but he supposed he wouldn't get a good glimpse of them until they came to clean them off and change the bandages.

Foolish...he'd been too careless and too eager to retrieve his trinkets. The rest of them didn't even matter to him anymore, but Vincent's locket was paramount. If he hadn't been so distracted and chatty, he might have noticed that fourth reaper before he sucker-punched him. He hadn't even believed he was in real danger when they had him pinned to the floor, because he'd arrogantly assumed they wouldn't dare to actually cut him. How wrong he was about that.

"They sure showed me," he croaked, chuckling painfully. He'd endured this kind of pain before and sewn his injuries closed himself, nearly dying in the process. He rather hoped their methods of today yielded better results than his own had, so long ago. He'd tossed vanity out the window years ago, but he didn't want Vincent to be too shocked by the sight of him when he awoke.

That was, iif/i he awoke. The Undertaker wasn't so certain that would happen, now. Dispatch would probably keep him imprisoned indefinitely, if they didn't have him executed. For all the tricks he usually kept up his sleeve, not even he could break free of the detention center of this realm without help. If he was going to escape, he'd have to do it before they moved him from the infirmary to the prison ward.

He just needed to bide his time for the right moment. He tested his bonds and he grimaced at the pain in his injured wrist, which had been surgically repaired. They'd taken care to strap his arms down by the biceps and forearms, not the wrists. The restraints would likely hold him no matter how he tried to squirm free of them, but someone would eventually have to unfasten them.

No matter; nobody could play dead like the Undertaker.

"You're awake." a feminine voice cut into the reaper's thoughts. A nurse stepped into the room with a clipboard, "How are you feeling?"

"Bugger," muttered the ancient under his breath. Aloud, he spoke in a voice gone hoarse from the abuse to his vocal chords. "Hullo, my dear. I'm feeling a bit dizzy...and thirsty. Could you bring an old reaper a drink of water?"

"I'll bring you one shortly, but first, I need to know of your injuries. any higher levels of pain?"

He glanced down at his left arm. "My wrist hurts. I think I may have torn a stitch or two when I woke up. Didn't know where I was and I—" he coughed painfully, his sentence cutting off with the fit. He bit his tongue as he did it, hard enough to draw a substantial amount of blood, and he spit it out with the next cough.

"Think my lungs might be...bleeding, love," he croaked.

"Your lungs weren't damaged." she said with an annoyed look on her face, "And I'm not removing your binds. We have been warned of your tactics and so you'll forgive me for taking your word with a grain of salt." She checked the monitors attached to Undertaker and jotted a few things down before moving to look at the wounds.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, this morning," observed the ancient with another cough. "My lungs weren't damaged, but my throat was slit open and I think it's bleeding down my windpipe."

He coughed again, more violently. Blood began to seep into the dressing around his neck from the agitation to his sutures. Of course, he didn't i_need_/i to breathe, but nearly all reapers did it reflexively.

"This is...really uncomfortable," he complained. "Have a heart, darlin'."

"I was chosen to tend to you because I don't have one." she stated, taking a look at his wrist. "I also don't care who you are. You are in he custody of Reaper Authorities, and you'll be staying that way."

"Ouch. Your words scald me." He grimaced with discomfort as she unwrapped and cleaned his wrist, and he checked the damage. "My, they did a wonderful job. That scar isn't going to be nearly as noticeable as my old ones."

He studied her, noting the cool expression on her face. He coughed again to clear his throat before speaking again. "You're much too pretty to be frowning that way, my dear. I'll bet I can make you smile."

"Good luck with that." she stated, wrapping his wrist with a clean bandage and then moving to his neck.

"I'll take that as a challenge, then." The ancient mulled it over for a moment, and then he brightened. "Let's start with puns. Ahem... Show me a piano falling down a mineshaft and I'll show you A-flat minor. Get it? A flat miner!"

He started to laugh at his own pun, and he grimaced in pain when it strained his vocal chords. "Oh come now, that was funny! Hmm, let's try another one. You can relate to this one: A pessimist's blood type is B-negative."

He thought he saw her mouth twitch, so he went on. "The little old woman who lived in a shoe wasn't the sole owner - there were strings attached."

He kept telling her puns and jokes of varying nature until a chuckle escaped her lips, and he grinned up at her. "You see? I told you I could make you smile. What a lovely smile it is, too."

"I'm not here to smile. I'm here to make sure you don't die before you appear in court."

"Court, schmort," he snorted. "Everyone should laugh at least once per day. It's what reminds us we're alive...even Shinigami. I think—"

The door to the hospital room opened, and William Spears walked in. "Good afternoon," greeted the supervisor cordially, "I have come to get a report on the Undertaker's condition, nurse."

The Undertaker sighed. "Wonderful. Another unfortunate born without a sense of humor. The two of you really should consider marrying. Your children—were you able to have any—would be as mute as the Sphinx."

William raised a brow. "I see you haven't lost your engaging sense of humor, sir. I'm afraid you will be needing it, once you are well enough to be transferred."

"I'll be the life of the cellblock, I'm sure," said the mortician lightly. He coughed, and he blinked. "I'm feeling a bit light-headed, actually. I fear I may actually vomit."

William's expression remained unreadable. "The medical staff will take care of your needs, I'm sure."

"Including the need to have a piss?" challenged Undertaker. "The old bladder is starting to feel a bit full, and I'm not comfortable allowing the ladies to handle my goods, if you know what I mean."

"You'd rather have a male nurse handle them," guessed William with a nod. "That can be arranged."

The Undertaker huffed, betraying some annoyance. "You know, if they intend to kill me I'd rather them simply do it."

"Execution hasn't even been brought up as a consideration," explained William. "Rehabilitation is on the agenda, instead. You are too important a figure for Dispatch to have you destroyed, yet you are too dangerous to be let free. For what it's worth, I regret that it has come to this."

"One of the many times I wish my old identity stayed buried," grumbled the Undertaker. "A clean death is preferable to an eternity of boredom."

"You could one day be released," William pointed out, "once our psychiatric doctors confirm that you've regained sanity and aren't a danger to our organization or the balance between life and death."

"Ah, so it's to be little white pills and long-sleeved jackets, then." The ancient glanced down at his restrained body as the nurse finished redressing his injuries. "Can I at least request my lunatic attire in black? Flat white isn't really my color."

William sighed. "You brought this on yourself, sir. Nurse, I'll need a copy of his chart sent to my office for my files. Undertaker, you still have the respect of this organization, if not its trust."

The mortician compressed his lips. "Pity the feeling isn't mutual."

William lowered his gaze. "I expected as much. Good day, Undertaker."

~xox~

When he made it back to his office, William sat down in his chair and let his head sink into his hands. The burden of leadership was a difficult weight to bear at times; particularly when he had to follow protocol to detain the reaper that had inspired him so much. He wondered if it would ever get easier.

"Sir?" There was a knock on the frame of the open door, Ronald Knox glancing in, "Might I come in?"

William straightened up and took his head out of his hands. He nodded curtly. "Lock the door behind you." He'd forgotten to do so himself.

"Uh...alright..." Ronald stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him before approaching the desk, rubbing the back of his neck, "So, I heard that you didn't have overtime for once...and I was heading out, so I thought maybe you'd like to do something different for once? I mean, we got the geezer finally, so that's a big load off your back as District supervisor... you deserve to sit back and relax for a few hours, I think."

"I still have paperwork to do," excused William with inner regret. "I can't leave until it's all properly filled out, reviewed and filed."

His stomach growled and he placed a hand over it absently as he reached for the top document on the stack. He couldn't tell if he was hungry or nauseous. Explaining to his superiors how he'd managed to come across the slippery fugitive had been an exercise in self-control, and returning Ciel's book to its original state and replacing it in the library had been nerve-wracking. There was an unpleasant feeling of guilt twisting his gut, too; an emotion that William neither liked nor was accustomed to. He kept picturing the Undertaker lying there like an invalid for two days, unconscious and helpless. It was a sad sight, and knowing he was responsible for it just made it worse.

"Ronald...perhaps I can entrust some of this paperwork to Mr. Humphries and take an early day, after all.," he said after a moment's reflection. He'd already collapsed once, and while he didn't feel he deserved any amnesties for what he'd done, the thought of spending a bit of downtime with the young man he secretly harbored an attraction to was appealing. He chose to look at it not as a reward, but as a reprieve from the depression weighing on him.

He looked up at the younger reaper, covertly appreciating his youthful good looks and the concern in his eyes—concern for i_him_/i. He could pretend it was something more than worry for a coworker that inspired Knox's friendly gesture. "What did you have in mind?"

"Really?" Ronald perked up. He had been sure that William would insist upon turning him down...he actually wasn't prepared for the response he had received and now he had to rack his brain for an idea that didn't sound awkward or too date-like...or like something William would disprove of.

-And he was having trouble with it; standing before the man with a gob-smacked look upon his face.

William's mouth twitched. "Honestly, Knox...you should have a location in mind when you invite a coworker to go out with you somewhere. I'll leave you to think on it while I phone Mr. Humphries with my request.

With that said, he picked up his phone and entered a number sequence. "Humphries, it's Spears. I have some paperwork that I would like you to fill out and file for me, if your schedule allows it. Yes, I'm going to take the rest of the day off. Just do what you can, and you will have my gratitude. Yes, I am in the process of arranging a visit for the Earl, but that will take another two days, I'm afraid. Thank you, Alan. Have a pleasant evening."

He hung up the phone and looked at Ronald expectantly, threading his fingers together on top of his desk. "Well, have you decided where we'll be going?"

"Dancing?" Ron stiffened, he'd just carelessly spat out the first thing that popped in his head. No, wrong! Wrong suggestion! How embarrassing. "I-I mean we could have dinner and maybe a drink...or five..."

William surprised himself, then. "Dancing and drinks would be fine...after a meal, of course."

He was well-versed in ballroom dancing, after all—though it had been a while. He gave a mental shrug. If he was going to spoil himself a bit, he might as well make it good. He could use a couple of drinks after the month he'd had.

"Really?" Ronald asked, surprised that the man would be interested in all the option he'd blurted out. Especially dancing. He could see no reason why William would want to dance with _him_. Sure, William was a rather...classy kind of guy, so Ron could see him knowing how to waltz, or something. and while Ronald knew such dances from his human life, he never really did that kind of dancing anymore.

"Please don't make me repeat myself, Ronald. I may retract my accordance, if you do."

Secretly though, William found his surprise and excitement endearing.

"Sorry, I was just...not expecting you'd want to go dancing with me..." Ron shook his head, "Usually only the ladies are interested in that."

The supervisor was grateful that he had a high blush tolerance. Had he just agreed to go on a date with his subordinate? No, this was simply an outing. He needed to make that clear...for both their sakes. "I expect this won't be the sort of dancing that involves drunken grinding, Knox. A night of leisure with a colleague may clear my head a bit for the tasks ahead of me."

His stomach growled again and he stood up, deciding they should go before he lost his nerve. "Well then, let's clock out and decide where we want to eat, shall we?"

Ronald nodded and walked over to the door, "But give me more credit, would ya? I have much more class than drunkingly rubbing myself up against people. Even if I'm drunk, I'm actually dancing." He smirked and opened the door, "Rubbing against people is an activity for afterwards in private."

William honestly had no response for that. He shoved the mental picture of doing just that with Ronald out of his head and he retrieved his jacket from the back of his chair.

~xox~

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

De Morte ad Vitam

An Undertaker/Vincent RP (Co-writer: Stickiebun)

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. We make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.**

Chapter 4

~xox~

"So what kind of food do you like for dinner? I only really know what you normally have for lunch, so…" The blond shrugged, holding the door for William.

"I think I'm in the mood for Japanese fare," answered the taller man as he passed through the doorway. He shrugged into his jacket and locked his office door behind them. "There is a place a few blocks from here that I sometimes dine at. Would that be acceptable to you?"

"Sure, as long as they offer forks. I suck at using those sticks. That's no way to pick up food!" Ronald said, tapping his finger and thumb together, "I can't seem to ever get them to pick up food."

William hid a smirk. "Yes, they offer forks and training chopsticks for those who aren't familiar with the traditional eating utensils. You may find it easier than you imagine to use theirs, however, with the proper tutelage."

His tone indicated that he intended to teach him how to handle chopsticks, and William T. Spears did not half-step when it came to training people.

"But it's more satisfying to stab your food before eating…why only pinch it?" The blond shrugged, skipping forward a few steps to press the button to summon the lift.

"Because chopsticks are more elegant," William tried to explain, "more civilized. Are you a gentleman or a troglodyte, Ronald?"

The elevator door opened and William stuck his scythe out, holding it for Ronald to go in first. "After you."

"I guess I'm a troglodyte, then." Ronald shrugged, slipping into the lift, "I like stabbing things to make sure they're dead before I eat them."

"Barbarian." William sniffed disdainfully, but there was a faint hint of a teasing sparkle in his eyes. "However will I civilize you, Ronald Knox?"

He deliberately leaned closer to the blond to push the button to the floor they needed, brushing against him in passing.

"Good luck with that. Knox big dumb caveman. Stabby da food critters." Ronald snickered, "Come on, Nothing wrong with using a fork. Even the queen of England uses forks."

William nodded. "Yes, but I daresay she uses them with far more grace than you. I've seen you eat. There will be no speaking with your mouth full at our table tonight, Knox. No burping without covering your mouth either, and for pity's sake, don't plant your elbows on the table the way I so often see you do in the cafeteria."

"Now ya sound like my mother." Ron sighed, "Nothing wrong with enjoying a meal…and I don't burp." The lift slowed to a stop and the doors opened, letting the two reapers out on the main floor.

"Actually while we are on the subject," William said as they passed through the lobby, "In some cultures, it is considered a compliment to the chef to burp after a meal. You may not be so uncultured after all, Ronald."

He smirked sidelong at him…just barely. He nodded in greeting to other agents as they passed through the area and to the expansive doors leading out. "I suppose some moderate expression of gratitude for a meal could be acceptable."

He hailed a taxi, and the shiny chrome automobile pulled up on the curb for them. Humans still had quite a ways to go before they mastered such vehicles, but the Shinigami realm was ahead of them. He cordially opened the passenger door for his companion and gestured for Ronald to get in first. When he did, he slid in beside him and gave the driver directions. He found himself relaxing a little for the first time in months…i_truly_/i relaxing. He wondered how the night would play out, and he hoped that he wouldn't lose his composure and do something foolish in his exhaustion.

~xox~

Undertaker awoke from his latest drug-induced haze when someone slapped him rudely on both cheeks. "Nunh…stop that now. M' awake."

He squinted against the dim light, trying to bring the blurred figure hovering over him into focus. He forced a grin, trying to appear chipper despite the hopelessness he felt in his breast. "So you must be preparing to transfer me to the prison."

"Not quite, old friend."

Recognizing the voice, the mortician frowned. "Anderson?"

The blurred figure nodded. "You recognize my voice. Good. We haven't much time, so be quiet and—"

"How did you get in here to see me?" He was feeling the effects of the medication leaving him. "What did you—"

"That isn't being quiet," admonished the head of the Glasses Division, his voice hushed. "For God's sake, man, stop chattering for once and pay attention."

The captive ancient's senses perked up like a dog's ear's. "I'm listening, chap. What's happening?"

"I'm repaying a debt," answered Lawrence Anderson.

~xox~

William took his seat on the cushion at the traditional Japanese low table they were shown to, and he gestured for his companion to join him. "Bring a flask of warm sake to start," he instructed the waiter, "and we'll have some fried pickles while we decide on our entree. Ronald, would you like anything else as a beverage or appetizer?"

Ronald shook his head as he sat down, crossing his legs as he got comfortable, "Those are fine." he picked up the menu and opened it, "Oh good! English! I went to a French place once with Grell-senpai and it was all in French and Grell had to read the whole menu to me…he read it as if it was a child's bedtime story…"

William nearly snorted. He could easily imagine Sutcliff putting on a show like that. "Fortunately, you won't have to endure that with me. Take your time."

The waiter returned with the Sake and cups, and he poured a serving for both of them before bowing and taking his leave, reminding them to call on him if they needed anything else. William thanked him and returned his attention to the menu. "The sashimi here is quite good, if you enjoy that sort of thing."

Beyond hungry now, he sipped his drink and grimaced as he felt it burn all the way down. Perhaps he should have started with tea instead of sake, since he hadn't eaten all day long. The last thing he wanted was to pass out and end up with Ronald playing nursemaid to him again. He set the drink down and decided to ask for water when the waiter returned with their appetizers…just in case.

"Yeah, well, you are more mature than he is, and you are practically the only one in the office that treats me as an adult…" Ronald said, scanning over the menu, "Even the secretaries that want in my pants baby me…hate being the youngest…"

William nearly dropped his menu at the mention of other people trying to get down Ronald's pants…though it really didn't come as a surprise to him. The blond could be cocky and impulsive, but he was a good worker and he was—at times—utterly charming.

"Well, it isn't in my nature to 'baby' anyone," he said as evenly as possible, keeping his eyes carefully glued to the menu. He stared at the same menu thrice without even comprehending the words, though he knew it by heart now. He risked a glance up from the menu at his companion and he found that Ronald was poking the tip of his tongue out the left corner of his mouth in thought. He wanted to reach across the table and pinch it for reasons that had nothing to do with chastising him about proper behavior.

For a lack of anything else intelligent to say, he announced his choice without really even seeing it before his eyes. "I think I'll choose the sashimi medley with a side of the house salad."

The waiter had just returned and he hadn't even set down the pickles before William made his choice. He bowed at the supervisor, and then he looked at Ronald questioningly. "And for your companion?"

"Crap, you already know what you want? Uh…I guess I'll try that." Ron said, pointing to a item on the menu that had earlier caught his attention, "Please."

The waiter looked at it and nodded. "Good choice. Will there be any dessert, or would you like to look at the menus again after your meal?"

Feeling particularly famished now that he was in a dining venue, the answer was easy for William. "Fried ice cream for me. Ronald?"

"I'll…get back to ya on that." Ronald said, not knowing anything on the dessert menu yet, and not knowing how filling his meal would be.

"Very well." William gathered the menus and handed them over to the server. When the man left, he poured some warm sake for himself and his companion. "You should try it, Ronald. It's quite nice…a bit like tea."

"I'm getting to it. I was distracted by food choices." Ronald shrugged, picking up his cup and taking a sip, "And I have tried this stuff before. If it has alcohol, I've tried it."

"I might have known." William sipped his own sake and he held it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, rolling his tongue around to savor the taste.

After swallowing, he gazed at Ronald quietly for a moment before offering some gratitude. "I really don't get out often enough to enjoy this. I…appreciate your considerate suggestion, Knox."

"You work too much. Breaks are healthy." Ron shrugged, "I'd like to see you stress less, and this was the only thing I could think of."

"So long as I don't get into the habit of slacking," answered the supervisor. He lifted his cup to the blond. "Cheers, Ronald."

"You work too much. Breaks are healthy." Ron shrugged, "I'd like to see you stress less, and this was the only thing I could think of."

William lowered his gaze and shrugged fluidly. He took so much pride in his work that he sometimes forgot to slow down and enjoy little moments like this. His coworkers generally saw him as a cold, unfeeling automation that had no personal life outside his office. Perhaps they weren't entirely wrong about that, but right now he had the company of an engaging, attractive young man and a nice meal to look forward to. It was the little things that made his hard work worth the effort, and he intended to enjoy this night while it lasted.

As he sipped his beverage and began to feel the subtle effects of the alcohol, he covertly studied his companion and a most unprofessional plan began to take form in his mind. He was always the one following the rules, never doing anything that might cause a scandal or arouse gasps of shock from his fellows. Maybe it was time to see if he could make Ronald gasp…just a bit.

~xox~

Undertaker peeked around the corner of the building, absently rubbing his smarting wrist. His injuries pained him, but he wasn't about to complain when his path of freedom was open to him. Not one to hesitate when an opportunity came along, he looked back at his friend, standing in the shadows behind him. He smiled broadly and stuck out his uninjured hand for a goodbye shake, and Lawrence took it and smiled quietly back.

"Thanks, old chap," murmured the ancient. "I owe you one for this."

Anderson shook his gray-streaked head. "No, this makes us even. If you get caught again and mention my assistance, you know I'll deny it vehemently."

The mortician chuckled. "I've no doubt of that. You needn't worry, though. I'm not in the habit of tossing the people that help me under the carriage…especially very old friends."

Lawrence sighed. "I would try to convince you to abandon this plan of yours, if I thought it would make any difference. You're too bloody stubborn to bother, though."

The Undertaker nodded. "Right-o. You know how important this is to me. I hope you understand why I can't acquiesce your desires, my friend."

"I do." Lawrence nodded. "I've loved and lost myself, and I know how the pain can drive a man to do reckless things. For what it's worth, I wish you the best of luck, Khronos. I don't agree with what you're trying to do, but I understand why you're doing it. Now make yourself disappear from this place, while you still can."

Undertaker smiled warmly at him—the sort of smile he reserved for the few in his life whom he genuinely loved. "When this is over, I'll be in touch. I'd like to at least treat you to a nice dinner sometime. Cheerio, Pops."

He made a hat-tipping gesture at the other reaper, though his head was bare. Checking his borrowed garments, he tucked his hair down the back of his jacket and wrapped the scarf up around his neck. Thankfully the season was right for warm, concealing clothing and nobody would question why he was bundled up. He put on the glasses provided to him by Anderson after brushing his bangs back from his eyes and donning the fedora hat, and he blinked in shock when the world suddenly came into sharp focus.

"Goodness, I'd quite forgotten what it was like to see the bark on the trees from this distance," he whispered, eyes wide behind the lenses of the new spectacles. They were rather plain; not like his original glasses at all. Wire framed and rectangular, they didn't draw much attention. He hadn't expected them to be functional, though. He'd expected Lawrence to give him demonstration lenses. He looked at his old friend with mild surprise.

Lawrence smirked in satisfaction. "I'm quite sure you need something stronger by now to obtain 20/20 vision, but your last known prescription should suffice. Don't worry; I did not install a tracer in them. It wouldn't make sense for me to help you escape, just to give you something they could track you with."

Undertaker grinned. "Can't say I'll make regular use of them since I've gotten so used to blind fighting, but these will certainly help me enjoy a show now and then. It'll be nice to actually _isee/i_ the actors on the stage or sit further than the front row when they play the films, now and then. Thank you."

Anderson nodded eloquently. "My pleasure, old friend. Good luck to you."

He watched for a moment as the Undertaker walked away, strolling casually out into the open like any reaper going about his daily business. With his attire, his bangs held back and the hat and scarf masking some of his features, he probably wouldn't be recognized by anyone he passed…provided they weren't specifically looking for him. He hoped the mad old eccentric would have the sense to avoid any Dispatch agents on his way out of the realm, or at least give them a wide berth. With a sigh, he took another route and he hoped his friend would make it back to the mortal plane safely. He'd done what he could for him, and it was up to Khronos now.

~xox~

After enjoying a tasty meal, dessert came and William allowed Ronald to have a taste of his before choosing his own. The blond took a liking to the fried ice cream and he decided to order the same. Feeling relatively relaxed, he chatted with Ronald as they enjoyed the final treat and he tipped the waiter generously, seeing as Knox insisted on paying for the meal. They left the restaurant and went to the lounge William fancied, after that. The administrator smirked when Ronald expressed some insecurity as they stepped onto the dance floor.

"I'll lead," he offered, extending his hand. They weren't the only same-gender pair on the floor; Shinigami tended not to fret over such things, the way the mortals did. Perhaps it was because no two reapers of any gender mix could produce offspring together, and therefore it really didn't matter if two men or two women chose to partner up romantically.

Ronald took his position, placing his hand on William's shoulder, "It's been a really long time since I've danced this way…no hard feelings if I step on your toes? Or loose balance…or forget the steps…" He hadn't been all that great with it to begin with. His best had always been 'acceptable' and at his worst he'd find his dance partner, who back then had been his older cousin, storming off in a huff, cursing his 'two left feet' to hell where they 'belonged'.

Free-style type dancing was much more his style. Not so much the 'drunk grinding' as William had assumed, but still a far cry from any Ballroom type dances.

However, as a human, he had always had to lead as he was a boy. maybe following would help him, and William seemed to know what he was doing as the next song struck up.

"Just relax and follow my lead," advised William calmly. The sake had warmed him and granted him confidence. He started with his left foot, guiding his companion into a simple waltz. Ronald followed gamely and a charming blush suffused his cheeks. He stumbled a little and when he muttered an apology, William shook his head. "Ease into it, Knox. All you need to do is step where I step, and I can do the rest."

Seeing a balcony off to the left at the far end of the dance floor, William began to tactfully steer his dance partner toward it. "Perhaps a less populated area is best to start out with," he suggested, not letting on to his true intentions.

"Huh? I'm not so bad you are afraid I'd embarrass you by stepping on other people's toes, am I?" He asked, watching their feet as they moved.

"I'd be more concerned that you might stumble into another couple," answered William dryly, "but no, you aren't that bad. I simply think you might feel less pressure if we aren't out in the open."

He guided the blond further, keeping up the guise for a while once they were at the edge of the dance floor. "You see?" he murmured. "You seem more confident already."

"Confidence isn't my problem. Execution is." Ronald muttered, following William's lead, "This dance is really slow, as well…I'm used to faster dances."

"You'll adjust to it with practice," assured William. "You've always adapted quickly."

Praise from him was a rarity, but lately he'd found more and more reasons to bestow it upon the young blond. With more training and discipline, Ronald might eventually become a top agent of Dispatch. He wondered if Knox was as quick to learn in the bedroom as he was in the field, and the train of thought led him to toss his reservations out the window and pull his companion off the dance floor and out to the balcony with him. He closed the French doors behind him and looked at Ronald's confused face, hesitating for a moment.

"Sir?" Ronald asked, confused, "…Is this your way of telling me I will have a pay cut or something from lacking in the ability to waltz?"

Rather than explain his actions verbally, William backed the younger reaper up against the balcony railing, put one arm around his waist and cupped the back of his head. He lowered his mouth to his and kissed him, putting all of his previously restrained desire behind it and relishing in the softness of Ronald's lips. When the blond gasped in surprise, William took advantage of the opportunity to plunge his tongue into his mouth, ravishing and dominating Ronald's with a hunger that surprised even William.

Stunned, Ronald stood in the kiss as if under a spell. William was kissing him… _William T. Spears_ was kissing him… His boss, Dispatch Supervisor William T. Spears was _kissing_ him…

Why was this happening..?

No, did it matter why right now?

All at once, Ronald came back to life, sliding his arms around the brunet, pulling his body closer and flush against his own as he pressed back up into the kiss the taller male was bestowing on him. Giving him a taste of his own passion.

William's lust escalated, even as he felt relief that his companion hadn't rejected him. As soon as Ronald's tongue caressed his willingly, he couldn't resist pushing him onto the balustrade and wedging his hips between his thighs. His fingers slid through the darker hair at the base of the blond's neck, before pushing through the longer yellow hair feathering over his brow. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been intimate with anyone, and now that he knew Ronald was receptive, all of his hesitation and doubt vanished.

He'd spent his life as a reaper following the rules, putting aside his own desires for the good of the organization and generally ignoring his basic needs. Companionship, the simple pleasures in life…even nourishment when his work load got too heavy. It was time for him to collect his reward. He slid one hand down to Ronald's hip, while cupping the back of his head with the other. The kiss deepened and his desire increased…evident by the bulge forming in his trousers.

"Holy shit, senpai…" Ronald moaned, feeling the bulge in the older reaper's crotch. "Where did all this come from?" he trapped the man against him with arms and legs, not wanting him to pull away again.

William's lips migrated from Ronald's to kiss a heated path down his neck. "I've decided to stop depriving myself of what I want." He accentuated the statement by sliding his hand around from Ronald's hip to cup the blond between his legs, palming the evidence of Ronald's answering lust.

"And…you want me?" Ron asked in surprised. "Damn, I knew the ladies wanted me…had no idea you did…you should have said something sooner, Senpai." He said, grabbed him by the tie and yanked him back against his lips for a moment. "I've fancied you, but thought you had no interest in the idea of dating so I was trying to respect that…but since you are interested…" he pulled him into a kiss once more.

William's heart annoyingly skipped a beat when he heard those uttered words, and Ronald's actions sent it pumping at a quick tempo. He squeezed and fondled the blond's now straining crotch, nibbling his animated lips for a moment before letting his tongue dance against Ronald's. He would normally consider himself too restrained and proper to do something like this; making out with his subordinate on the balcony of a popular lounge. It really wasn't like him at all, but then, he hadn't taken the time to discover who he really was. He wouldn't have guessed he even had such a side to him, and he supposed he could thank the combination of sake and tightly wound emotions for that.

He'd finally captured the fugitive with Ronald's help…his idol. It was difficult to feel relief or accomplishment when those emotions warred with guilt. The Undertaker had forced Dispatch's hand. He knew this, and yet it pained him to be the one responsible for orchestrating his capture. His mind had been on what would eventually happen to the Undertaker, when it wasn't toying with fantasies about Ronald.

"Yes, I want you," he admitted breathlessly, breaking the kiss long enough to say it. Ronald moaned in reaction to his fondling and he crushed his mouth against his again, muffling the sound. His phone began to vibrate and he tried to ignore it. He'd completed his task. The paperwork would be finished and filed by tomorrow afternoon, and then he could contact Ciel to arrange the visit he'd promised him. There was no pressing reason for the office to be calling him right now.

William removed his hand from Ronald's package and he cupped his hips with both hands, grinding himself against him intimately. It was ironic that he'd made the disparaging comment about drunken grinding, and here he was doing that very thing…or close enough to it. He wasn't drunk, but he was pleasantly buzzed from the rice wine and he was certainly grinding against Ronald.

Ronald smiled into the kiss, his lips moving pleasantly against William's. "Then…is it okay if I keep you?" Ronald asked, moving his lips from Wills and kissing along his jaw.

William's breath caught. Somehow the little terror had found one of his obscure weak spots, and he closed his eyes at the feel of the soft lips caressing his jaw line. Unwittingly, he put his arms around the blond and held him in a tight embrace. "If you believe you're up for the challenge of it, yes."

The blond smiled, sliding his free hand along William's cheek as he trailed the kisses down his neck to his collar and then back up. This was not the place to test clothing removal. Balcony or not, they were in public, and this was surprising enough.

"Then…I want to keep you…but that means no overtime every single night until you pass out again." he breathed against William's soft skin.

"I can't promise anything," cautioned the brunet prudently, "but I'll attempt to avoid that in the future. I loathe overtime as much as you do, believe it or not."

His phone vibrated in his pocket again and he grimaced. Whoever it was evidently had no intention of stopping until he answered. He retrieved the device with a sigh and reluctantly pulled out of Ronald's embrace, avoiding looking at him for fear that he might impulsively toss the phone over the balcony in favor of ravishing the blond a bit more.

"This is William T. Spears," he greeted as he answered the pone. "Good evening."

He listened to the response, and his heart began to pound heavily again for entirely different reasons than before. He couldn't hide his expression of disconcertion from Ronald as he looked at him. "I see. Yes, I will be right in. Thank you."

William ended the call and he sighed. "The Undertaker escaped the infirmary."

"Whaa? But that's impossible! We went through a hellish amount of paperwork to instate the highest level of security in that place before he is moved to lock-up!" The boy complained, "Awe man… Now we gotta start all over again!"

"So it would seem," murmured the older reaper, his passion cooling. In addition to his frustration, he experienced and unforgivable feeling of…relief. What a horrid inconvenience it was to have his personal feelings interfere with his work. First the Undertaker, and now Ronald. He wasn't willing to give up the latter now that he'd established the blond felt the same, and he didn't know if he could muster the energy to capture the elusive ancient again.

William put the phone away and he straightened his clothes. "Come, we need to check in at Headquarters and discover how this was done. He had to have outside assistance, or he somehow managed to trick someone into freeing him. If it's the former, than we have a traitor in our midst's who is sympathetic to the Undertaker's plight."

"Maaan…" The boy groaned, pushing himself upright and shifting his legs, "Little Knoxie isn't going to settle down for a while, either…this is gonna suck more than it already does…"

William shifted uncomfortably, wholly sympathizing with Ronald. "Perhaps we can stand to wait for a little while, before reporting in."

~xox~

Sebastian was tempted to slam the door in his face when the Undertaker showed up unexpectedly on his master's doorstep. Ciel would have sensed it though, and it would have raised questions. He restrained the frown trying to form on his lips as he cordially greeted the slippery old reaper with a nod.

"Undertaker. What an unexpected…pleasure."

The mortician grinned widely and winked. "Try not to look so pleased, chap. Is the little lord available?"

Sebastian pulled out his pocket watch. "It is late, but my lord hasn't yet retired. Do come in; I'm certain he will want to have audience with you."

Undertaker snickered under his breath. "I'm sure he would. Don't look so worried, Mr. Michaelis. I have no intention of challenging you for the boy's soul, just yet. This visit is strictly for business purposes."

The demon butler noticed the wrappings around the Undertaker's wrist. "You seem to have made a remarkable recovery, sir."

"Yes, we Shinigami tend to heal fast," agreed the mortician with a glance down at his bound wrist. He flexed his fingers and winced. "Not quite so fast from scythe wounds, though. Fortunately our medicine has advanced to the point where my new scars won't be as obvious as the old ones, though. Now, are you going to show me in or not?"

"Of course." Sebastian chose not to respond to his barbs. He bowed politely and gestured for the reaper to come in. He showed him to the main parlor and he rang for Mey-Rin to bring him some refreshment.

"Do try not to flirt with the maid this time, sir. I would also advise you to refrain from taking her hostage."

Undertaker chuckled and relaxed against the back of the leather chair he sat in. "I've got no reason to do either…unless you and your master decide to call Dispatch on me again."

"I believe the young master has more pressing concerns on his mind, than seeing you captured again. I suggest you not overstay your welcome here, once your business with him is finished. I cannot promise Dispatch will not be notified the moment you've concluded your meeting."

"No need to hit me over the head with it." The reaper kept grinning. "I understand I'm only welcome here as long as I'm useful to the lad. How brief this meeting is depends on Ciel."

Sebastian nodded. "Very good, sir. Mey-Rin shall have your refreshment shortly. If you are suffering any pain, feel free to request some medication."

"You're too kind." Undertaker pressed a long-nailed fingertip against his lips to control his smile, and he watched Sebastian leave the parlor to go and fetch Ciel. "Well, this ought to be interesting, Vincent. Let's see if your son has the good sense to relinquish your records to me so I can finish what I started."

~xox~

It wasn't long of a wait before the door reopened and Ciel entered the room, saying nothing until after he sat down in a chair across from Undertaker, his bright blue eye studying the reaper.

"I'm surprised you are here. It seems the reapers are just as unable to hold you as I would be." He stated.

The Undertaker looked up from his cup of tea with a grin, and he shrugged. The motion was eerily graceful—a subtle reminder that he was not human. "What can I say? I'm a slippery old get. My work is too important to be delayed for very long, young Earl."

"Your work…bringing my father back?" Ciel asked. The topic had been heavy on his mind since Undertaker's capture.

The reaper nodded, still smiling. "Indeed. As I told you; my dollies were a means to an end. I've discovered the secret to manipulating the cinematic records to extend life beyond death. I was fortunate enough to collect your father's records before Dispatch could do so, and with them intact, I can bring him back to both of us. I can do nothing of the sort for your mother, unfortunately…she was…too far gone."

Undertaker frowned and looked away, recalling the moment he found Rachel's charred body.

"So you want to put his soul in some random partially decayed body? How is that helping my father?" Ciel asked. He pulled the chain of lockets out of his pocket and held them up. One charm missing from it's place. "If you want the last charm you will tell me everything." he said, setting it down on the table.

The Undertaker glanced down at the chain of lockets and he smirked. "If that's how you wish to play it, my lord. Very well; I'll do my utmost to tell you everything you want to know."

He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, and he dropped his chin in his hand. "First, however, I think you should know that I've got no intention of dropping your Daddy's soul into a decaying corpse. I assure you that Vincent Phantomhive's body is still quite preserved and ready for the transfer. Secondly, I can't do this without that one specific charm that you've so cleverly decided to remove from the chain. That charm holds everything that is Vincent Phantomhive within it, little Earl."

"I assumed as much." The boy stated, "Which is why I am keeping that one safe with me until I am convinced of your intentions." He picked up his teacup and took a sip, "I know Sebastian is not happy of your being here. I have ordered him to keep away during this conversation. This is between only the two of us."

The Undertaker hid his annoyance well. After all, he'd had a part in this boy's upbringing—and Ciel was the only child of his two dearest mortals. "I thought I explained my intentions quite clearly, little lord."

He kept smiling. "I know you suffer no compunctions of religion, to keep you from getting your father back. What exactly is it that you want to hear?"

"It is unnatural. People die—they stay dead. There must be consequences and my father would be dragged into the middle of it. How do you even know it would work in the long term? His body could start to decay away as he 'lives' on. Your other dolls have not lasted long due to battle. You don't know if they would have lasted or not and it is cruel to give me my father back, only to make me watch him die all over again as his body fails him."

"His body will i_not_/i fail him," objected the reaper. "I have living proof of that. Do you think I would resurrect that which is most dear to me, if I weren't certain he'd stand the test of time?"

He spread his hands, displaying his long nails. He did not smile. "I would never even consider bringing him back, if I weren't sure I could do it. You're a bit too young to completely understand how much importance I place upon this, and Vincent would never forgive me if I were to elaborate. The question remaining, my dear, is whether you'll allow your father to remain dead for eternity…or whether you'll allot to bring him back."

The Undertaker dropped the hand supporting his chin and he leaned forward a bit, pinning the Earl with his strange gaze. The scratchy mortician voice vanished; replaced by the low, droning voice of the reaper behind the act. "I could take it from you right now, if I choose. Your butler could not stop me and you know it. I'd rather you give it to me willingly. Your father would prefer it that way, I'm sure. What is it that stops you, I wonder? Fear of Vincent coming back wrong, or fear of what he might say when he learns you sold your soul to a demon? You may not even have to be devoured, in the end. Your soul could be yours, to ascend or descend as it will. I know that you honor your contract, but what if I could fulfill your wish before the demon? I think that might be worth something to your parents."

The boy glanced away, "…The contract is unbreakable. He is mine, and my soul is his. There is nothing to change it."

"Never say never, my boy," insisted the Undertaker with a shake of a white finger. "If he fails to fulfill his part in the bargain…well then…he loses all claim to your soul, doesn't he?"

The mortician smiled. "You didn't really think Uncle Unnie would let the only son of his dearest friends get devoured by Hellspawn, did you? Everything I do has a reason behind it…even if it seems insane to others. But we can discuss that later. As long as your raven remains clueless as to who is really behind the attack on your family, he can't sup on you without breaking his contract. Doing so would cause his immediate 'death' on this plane and banish him to Hell for centuries, you see. So back to the matter of your sire; will you return the locket I ask for, or must I be aggressive?"

"And if I choose to stay within my contract? Father or not, I want my revenge." Ciel pulled out the simple locket containing his father, the light glinting off it's silver surface. "I'm surprised Sebastian never noticed there was a soul in here."

"Ah, but he'd have to be actively i_looking_/i for it to stand a chance of detecting it," chuckled the reaper. He waved a hand gracefully. "I took certain measures to ensure nobody would easily discover the true nature of that locket, my lord. How could I not, with something so precious?"

He eyed the locket wistfully, unable to completely mask his desire. "I had to safeguard him, else Dispatch might have taken him from me."

"But I could sense it." the boy stated flatly, "I knew there was something about it…something familiar. and after what you said, I knew it was my father." He gripped it, "And now you want me to hand him over."

"Of course you could sense it," sighed the Undertaker in exasperation. "He's your bloody i_father_/i, after all. You've got a connection to him that your pet demon can't duplicate. Yes, I want you to hand him over. You can't hug a memory, child. You can't talk to it, either. You could keep that locket beneath your pillow at night, you could talk to it, but it will never talk back or respond to you in any way. You may fulfill your goal and end up as food for Mr. Michaelis, and your father's soul will remain in that locket, helpless to do a thing for you. Is this your desire, little lord?"

"…How long?" The boy asked, "How long a wait?"

Undertaker tapped a nail against his teeth in thought. "As I've said; I've perfected the process. My latest crowning achievement was awake and fully functional within a week. I've also learned how to curb the craving for human flesh, if you'd like to know. Daddy dearest won't be trying to snack on you or any other mortal, so no worries of cannibalism. He won't be shambling around like a drooling invalid, either. I can assure you that aside from some mild scarring around the hairline, Vincent Phantomhive will be just as you remember him—with some notably enhanced attributes, of course."

"Will he have to be kept secret? Everyone knows he's dead… How could he be happy having to keep his head low?"

The reaper shrugged. "Believe it or not, your father was never happy being the Queen's Watchdog. He disliked the grim tasks his position sometimes required of him. 'Evil Noble', indeed." Undertaker snorted and waved a hand. "Vincent Phantomhive was a good man at heart; regardless of the things he had to do in the name of the Crown. He was too good for his i_own_/i good…or his wife's, for that matter. Her Majesty couldn't squash that with her demands, nor could he. I'm confident that Vincent won't miss his former duties or the title that came with them, my boy."

Undertaker watched Ciel thoughtfully for a moment, and he put his teacup aside to steeple his fingertips. "He might try to interfere with your fate, though. I'm sure you know that already."

Ciel glanced down at the locket in his palm—his father. Of course his father wouldn't want him furthering such a contract as he held in his eye. Vincent Phantomhive had been such a loving and devoted father…he always made time for Ciel's young self, even if it was just letting him sit in his lap as he worked…

But his soul's fate was his own choice. and Vincent hadn't been there when Ciel had been captured and abused. He hadn't been there to protect him… Sebastian had. Sebastian had been the one to save him. Ciel wasn't the same little boy Vincent had raised…not by a long shot.

Still…the child in him, deep down in his heart, held out the locket in offering to the reaper. He wanted his daddy back…

The Undertaker took the locket solemnly, seeing the vulnerable look that Ciel was trying so hard to mask. He rubbed a thumb over the smooth, cool surface of the item, feeling no small measure of relief at having it back in his hands again. He pocketed it and he stood up slowly, gazing down at the boy with quiet regret. Of all the promises he'd failed to keep, safeguarding his godson was the one that troubled him the most. He forced a smile on his lips. Ciel was alive and safe, for now. That was something, at least.

"You've made the right choice, little lord. By the end of the week, we'll both have Vincent Phantomhive back in our lives."

He bowed to the child. "Farewell, Ciel. You can keep the other lockets; I no longer need them."

Goal accomplished, the mortician created a portal and stepped backwards into it, waving goodbye to Ciel with a cheerfulness that he didn't truly feel.

~xox~

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

"Won't be long now, my dear." Undertaker smiled down at the body of his lover, peacefully preserved in the special coffin he'd been keeping him in. He stroked Vincent's cool cheek with one hand, while grasping his locket with the other. "I appealed to what's left of your son's sentimentality. I didn't want the little lord to get this involved, you understand. I thought I'd leave the treasure with him for a little while, get it back when it was time and keep the rest hush-hush. Bloody Dispatch spoiled that plan, though, and Ciel is so stubborn, I had to give him a reason to relinquish it to me compelling enough to make it worth it to him. It was either come out with it, or employ force. I'm sure you'd rather the former than the latter."

The reaper bent down and he kissed Vincent's still, pale lips softly. "I know you'll want to see him too, when you wake up. Could be this way is better, after all. Ciel knows I'm reviving you now, so he's not going to be surprised to see you…well, not unless he doesn't really believe I can do this. Then he might be surprised."

Undertaker shrugged and pocketed the locket again, so that he could slide his hands into the coffin underneath his lover. He lifted Vincent carefully in his arms, and he carried him out of the secret alcove and into his laboratory. Limp in his arms thanks to the methods the reaper had used to preserve his body, the Earl's head lolled against his shoulder. The Undertaker impulsively nuzzled his hair, stopping for a moment to close his eyes and recall a time when he'd done this very thing many times, while Vincent was still alive.

"We will have those evenings back, my love," promised the mortician in a whisper. "Just please forgive me, when you wake up."

He wanted to believe Vincent would adjust well to his new life, once he explained it to him. He wanted to believe he would be happy eventually, now that he had virtually no limitation on how long he could live. They could be together, and he could watch over his son and any future heirs Ciel might produce, if they saved him from his butler. Wouldn't that be worth it to Vincent? He'd accepted his mortality when he was alive, yes, but there were times he expressed frustration that he would grow old and die, while the Undertaker remained timeless.

"Now you'll be timeless too, darlin'," promised the Undertaker. He sighed and opened his eyes, carrying Vincent the rest of the way over to the table. "Maybe you'll be miffed at me, in the beginning, but I believe you'll understand why I did this and adjust to it. I know you'll forgive me."

He lowered the body onto the examination table and he strapped it firmly down to ensure it wouldn't roll off when the first breath of life awakened the nervous system and brain. There would be some twitching at first; they all twitched when the synapses fired back up. There might be some moaning as well, before Vincent even came too. Undertaker was prepared for all of this…or so he thought. Once he rolled out his instruments, dampened Vincent's hair and brushed it back from his forehead to begin, he ran into a dilemma. He put on the surgical gloves and mask and when it came time to begin, his scalpel hovered over the Earl's pallid forehead, and he couldn't bring himself to start the cut that would allow him to tug his scalp back and expose his skull.

The wickedly sharp instrument glinted in the lamp light as its wielder's hand trembled, and the reaper frowned. "What are you waiting for, old chap?" he muttered to himself. "Get it together and get started." He had his hair pulled back, he had his human-made glasses on to aid his poor vision enough to see clearly close up, and everything was ready to go. He considered wearing the Shinigami glasses given to him by Anderson, but he didn't want to do anything different and risk buggering up the procedure.

Still, the blade came no closer to Vincent's skin. Was it performance anxiety, or was it just the thought of cutting into his beloved mortal and operating on his brain? It was a delicate process, feeding the cinematic records back into a body and making the right neurological adjustments to allow that body to accommodate them again and come back to life. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes with this one. It was his one and only chance to bring Vincent back. One little slip, and—

Someone banged sharply on the locked, reinforced door to his lab, startling the Undertaker badly enough to make him drop his scalpel. The instrument clattered to the floor and he grunted with annoyance. He'd have to sterilize it again. "What do you want?" he called out. "I'm rather busy right now!"

When he recognized the viscount's voice calling through the door, he had a moment of panic. He didn't even comprehend what the blond noble was saying, because all he could think about was how quickly he'd recognize Vincent Phantomhive lying on his table if he let him in. His plan was to use the laboratory and get out with Vincent as soon as the procedure was a success, without ever revealing him to his host. Looking around, the Undertaker spotted the folded sheets he kept on hand to cover his dollies between procedural sessions. He grabbed the top one and pulled it off of the shelf, shaking it out quickly and draping it over Vincent's body. When he was completely covered from view, the mortician breathed a little easier and he picked up his fallen scalpel before going to the door to answer.

Aleister was asking where he'd been for the past few days, and Undertaker knew he wouldn't go away until he got his answer. Once the door opened, the monarch let himself in, his wrist flicking as he pushed his hair back. It was clear the man had never stopped talking since knocking on the door.

"—And I just don't understand why it'd take so long for you to return, what with your old colleagues looking for you. I was starting to worry for you and our little operation here~ Ah!" Druitt finally spotted how Undertaker looked; ready for operation and the body upon the table under a pristine white sheet. "Out finding new little Dollies for me? You know I have men for that dirty job!"

He spun around dramatically. "By the way, The Doll you had down here woke up and started screaming… his brains all exposed… We didn't know what to do without you here so we sadly had to sacrifice that one. I just don't understand why you would leave one like that."

Undertaker grimaced. He'd forgotten all about the poor sod in all the hassle with Dispatch. "Not to worry; I'm back now. I ran into a bit of a complication with some old associates, but all's well now."

His gaze went to the covered body on the table. "This particular dollie is one of my own; separate from the ones I've been creating for you. Naturally, I'll continue creating yours as well."

_~At least until I've succeeded with Vincent, and then you're on your own.~_

He kept his smile bright and cheerful, giving away nothing of his inner thoughts.

"One of your own?" The eccentric man raised a thin, platinum eyebrow, "You have not yet made yourself any, though you mentioned wishing to do so…making them talk and the like…Not to be used as a weapon…makes me wonder if you are making yourself a lover or two~" he chuckled to himself.

"Ah, I wonder what kind of lady is your type~" He moved quickly, grabbing the sheet to pull it back, yanking it upwards.

To Undertaker, time seemed to slow as the Viscount moved, the sheet fluttering lightly up off the deceased Earl to reveal his perfectly preserved form. Only scarring from bullet wounds marring his once perfect flesh in the head and hand. His skin as pale as death. The body of a man who had been dead for years, yet, strangely enough, looked as though he had only just died maybe an hour before at the most.

The nosy Viscount's eyes widened and he took a few steps back, the sheet fluttering to the floor next to the table. "He…looks familiar…he…" the man swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from Vincent, "…But that's impossible…"

The Undertaker snapped out of his daze, and he sighed. "Not impossible, my prying friend; not for me. Now you've gone and done it, though. I can't very well leave the memory of seeing this in your records, if I don't want word to get out."

He locked the door and he approached the Viscount as he removed his surgical gloves. "Now, let's not make this any harder than it has to be, chap." He manifested his death scythe. "This will only sting a little, and then everything will be tickety-boo."

"Wait—what?" The man backed up, "You're mad! Get that thing away from me—I know what it does to people! I've seen you use it! —I'm your partner in this!"

"And you'll remain my partner until I've finished what I set out to do," assured the reaper. "So sorry Viscount, but you've left me no choice. You won't even remember this when you wake up, and we can go back to business as usual."

The Undertaker closed the distance between them in a flash, and he popped him smartly on the head with the heel of his scythe, knocking him out cold. The blond man crumpled to the floor and Undertaker sighed again. "Someone's always got to create more work for me, don't they?"

He shrugged. No lasting harm done. He'd draw out just enough of the viscount's records to locate those last few moments, give them a snip and then wait for him to come too. He looked over at Vincent and he stroked his chin in thought. Best not to leave him out on the table for the nosey twit to have a peek at all over again.

"Sorry my love," he apologized, "seems we'll have to wait until my business partner is too busy entertaining or asleep to begin."

~xox~

Some twenty minutes later, the viscount awoke on the floor with a groan. Undertaker hovered over him with his customary grin of greeting. "Well hullo again, Viscount. That was quite a fall you had! You had me rather worried. One moment we were discussing what kept me away for a few days and the next…whoosh! You slipped and went down like a drunkard before I could catch you. Sorry about that. I had just mopped up and the floor is still a tad slippery. Here, how many fingers am I holding up?"

He held up the first three fingers of his right hand.

The blond groaned, slowly sitting up and cradling his head with a gloved hand. "Three. I…slipped?" his head ached. He must have cracked it hard when he fell. "I'm sorry, maybe I should go turn in for the evening. You may take dinner alone tonight…" he muttered.

"Of course, of course," agreed the reaper solicitously. "Let me help you up." He caught the viscount by the arm and assisted him back to his feet.

"You might want to think of calling your personal physician to come and have a look at you, if you start having blurred vision or dizziness. I could examine you myself, of course, but you know my forte isn't with the living."

"I'll have him called over—The last thing I want is you messing with things." He stated, sounding a bit dazed, "I'll see you in the morning—if you need anything you may request it of my servants." he took a few slow steps to the door.

Undertaker saw him out of the lab, and he grinned in satisfaction as he shut and locked the door behind him. "Toodles, Viscount. Now perhaps I can get back to what I was doing."

~xox~

"So the Undertaker somehow managed to slip out of his restraints and leave this facility without you or any of your staff seeing him. Is this correct?"

The doctor looked at William T. Spears with the expression of a man awaiting the gallows. "That seems to be the case, Supervisor Spears. Not even the security monitors picked up anything. We had him being intravenously sedated. I'm sorry, but I really don't know how this could have happened!"

William sighed and he looked at Ronald and Grell. The redhead had met up with them at the hospital to assist with the investigation. "He had to have assistance," reasoned the brunet. "Someone in this building helped him. Even without being sedated, he was in no condition to manage something like this in his condition…not on his own."

"Oh~ I wouldn't know about that, Darling~" Grell cooed, draping over William's shoulder as he always did, though this time it caused Ronald's eye to twitch in irritation. But the blond said nothing as the redhead continued.

"Unnie is full of surprises! Look at everything he's done that we know of. He's a man of a whole other level." He let go of William and spun around, hugging himself, "What I wouldn't give for him to embrace me all night long~"

"Yeah, yeah, you say the same thing about Spears-senpai and that Demon 'Sebas-chan'." Ronald huffed.

"Oh?" Grell blinked down at his junior, "Jealous, are we?" He swooped in, taking Ronald into his arms and spinning him into a dip, pressing in close with a smirk, "Darling, I'm sorry, but you just aren't my type. Too sweet and inexperienced. I like my men cold, mad, and able to give me a thrill in a fight~"

"I-I never said I was interested!" Ron protested, "You had better not drop me!"

"Shame, You don't know what you are missing, darling." Grell said, doing just that and dropping the boy onto the floor of the hospital lobby.

"Ow!"

"Enough of that," snapped William. "Sutcliff, focus." He helped Ronald up from the floor. "We need to learn how the Undertaker escaped, and we need to track him before he gets beyond our reach again."

"If not already…" Grell sighed, sitting on the counter of the front desk, "We got lucky last time from what I heard. Lucky for us Ronnie's so good at hiding in dark corners. But Unnie wont make the same mistake again."

"Probably not," William was forced to agree, "but if we can find the culprit responsible for helping him, we may be able to find out where he intended to go after escaping. I want every staff member interviewed and every account of who came and went from the Undertaker's hospital room. Even if someone did not willingly help him, there has to be a link somewhere. He could have taken a hostage, so pay attention to any staff that might be missing. We can't overlook anything."

"Ugh, such a dull assignment," Grell muttered, "Why not go look at Sebby's place? The brat said some things that make it sound like Unnie would keep going there."

"This soon? He knows we would be going after him again." Ronald pointed out.

"Ronald is correct," agreed William. "Stop fishing for an excuse to go there. Ciel turned him in, so it is unlikely that the Undertaker will be making a stop there again right away. Nevertheless, I will assign people to have the manor watched—not you, Sutcliff."

"Ahh, You're so cruel and cold, Will-darling." Grell sighed dramatically, "Fine, But I want a nice date tonight~" He tried.

"…Spears-Senpai will be too busy." Ron snapped, "As will we all."

"So snippy…what, did a hot date get cut short because of this?"

William smirked the tiniest bit, his eyes seeking out Ronald's. "I presume this date was hotter than average."

Ronald flushed and looked away, "Yeah, One I have been wanting to go on for a long time…"

The supervisor looked away too, but his smirk remained. "I'm sure your date was just as disappointed to have it ended early."

"They all would be. Ronnie has them lining up for a chance at a date." Grell shrugged, "In the end it's just a date, I'm sure."

"Not this time!" Ron insisted, "This one is someone special…that could change everything."

"That doesn't sound like you…" Grell shrugged and turned back to William, "Willl~ Please, _please_ let me handle the Sebby-space!"

"And have you throwing yourself at that demon as soon as the moment presents itself?" William scoffed. "You would give away us away. No, I need people that can be quiet and subtle on this assignment. I'll leave you in charge of questioning the infirmary staff, Sutcliff."

He looked at Knox and he nodded. "You, Mr. Knox, will accompany me to collect reports from all immediate secured areas. We need to examine all rift reports and see if we can pinpoint when and where the unauthorized exit portal was created—that is, if it was detected at all."

"Yes, sir!" Ronald saluted.

"But that's so boring!" Grell grumbled, "The most action I'll get is a paper cut…"

Suddenly imagining Grell peppering his hands with papercuts just to watch the blood trickle, William sighed. "This situation is more important than your entertainment, Grell Sutcliff. Complete the task I have given you in a timely and professional manner, and I may allow you to clock out early. You are forbidden from visiting the Phantomhive estate without my expressed permission, however—on or off the clock."

"Willllll!" Grell complained, hanging off his shoulder, "You're so mean!"

"We have work to do, Grell-senpai." Ron sighed.

"Yes, but I can't hang off Unnie because he went and made himself a wanted criminal! Now I can't go see Sebby, and Will never lets me express my love for him! You can't cut a lady's heart off from her affections!"

"You should find yourself a hobby, instead of chasing after men that aren't interested in you," suggested William coolly. He nodded at Ronald. "Come along; we have work to do."

~xox~

A day passed, and another after that. While Dispatch was diligently trying to find him, the Undertaker was occupied with the first stages of the alteration process that would allow him to resurrect his love from the dead. He only allowed himself a few hours on Vincent per day, preferring to take his time and do everything meticulously, rather than rush it and overlook something vital. When he wasn't working on the Earl's transformation, he kept him in the preservation casket and worked on more dolls for the viscount. Only late at night when most of the house was asleep did he put Vincent on the operating table. Replacing the cinematic records would be the final step—and the most important one.

Aleister entertained often, maintaining the image of flamboyant, fun-loving noble to avoid rousing too much suspicion from the Yard. They had already visited once for an inspection, Undertaker learned, while he was hospitalized in the Shinigami realm. Clever lunatic that he was, Druitt was practiced at keeping his secrets guarded. The entry to the laboratory was well hidden in the basement; opening up to a corridor that led to the lab's door.

On the second third night of his return, the Undertaker kept at it for another hour past his usual allotted time and he glanced up from the operating table when the cuckoo clock chimed. He squinted at the clock face as the little skeleton danced out of the tiny door beneath it, spinning merrily on the track before vanishing into the opposite door.

"Hmm, three o'clock," he murmured, looking down at his subject. "We've gone all the way to the witching hour, my dear. I think we should call it a night. You deserve nothing but my full attention and awareness, after all."

He replaced the top of Vincent's skull, clamped it into place and carefully eased his scalp back over it to cover it. The scarring at the hairline should be quite minimal when he was finished. He'd perfected his methods so much that he could bond the skull back together without the need for clamps, when his work was done. With finer stitching and a special balm he'd concocted himself, the marks of Vincent's transformation would be hardly visible to those that weren't specifically looking for them…particularly with the way he wore his hair.

Once he had the Earl's head put back together, he stood over him and gazed down at him, taking a moment to recall his favorite memories of their time together. "We'll have it again, love. I promise you. I just wonder how we'll deal with your son and his pet butler."

He smiled and he unfastened the straps securing him to the table and he tucked the sheets around him before lifting him into his arms. Carrying him bride-style, he brought him back into the hidden alcove and placed him back into his special casket.

~xox~

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Ronald sighed, leaning back in his chair and removing his glasses to rub his eyes and face, "Too much reading…" he complained. He'd been going over the stacks of witness accounts from the day at the hospital when Undertaker escaped. They had yet to find anything, anyone to go question more in depth…it had been as if the legend had portaled right out of his bed with an untraceable portal…but he shouldn't have had the energy to do so.

"I need a break…"

William looked up from the reports he was reading, and his lips parted as though he were about to chastise him, but then a yawn surfaced and he covered his mouth instead. "Perhaps a small break is in order. Coffee?"

"Strong." Ron nodded, slipping his glasses back onto his face, "Before this work kills me."

In an unusual display of solicitude, William got up and waved the blond back down when he started to follow. "Relax on my sofa for a while and allow me. Our date was interrupted, after all."

He gave him a quiet, reserved smile before leaving the office to retrieve the hot beverages.

Ronald smiled himself and nodded, "Though it was _our_ date, meaning, it was yours as well." He pointed out, moving to the sofa and relaxing on it after he stretched his back. "You should join me while we have our coffee break."

William paused to consider it. His gaze swept over the reclining blond with a flash of desire in them. "I suppose we can put aside the office relationship for long enough to enjoy a cup of coffee."

As he left to retrieve the beverages, he tried to banish thoughts of other things he would like to do with Ronald on his couch, besides drink coffee.

Ronald grinned, settling into the cushions and moving the decorative throw pillow out of the way as he waited.

William selected his favorite brew and doctored it up, before selecting Ronald's and doing the same for him. He went back into his office and found the fun-loving young reaper even _more_ laid-out than before…if such a thing were possible. With a rueful little smirk and a shake of his head, he approached the couch and sat down on the edge of it, before offering Ronald his cup.

"Extra sugar and cream. That is how you prefer it, I believe?"

"Yeah, thank you." Ron smiled, taking the cup, "Have you been watching me? You never made me coffee before, you had to have learned that somehow."

William adjusted his glasses and looked away. "I observe my staff closely. I may have paid a bit more attention to fine details with you than with others."

"So, what you're saying is…" Ron scooted a little closer to William, "…that you had a thing for me before I asked you to dinner and dancing."

The supervisor's first impulse was to try and brush it off, but he made himself turn his face to Ronald and look directly into his eyes. They were on break, and it was because of his conservative nature that he'd gone for so long without acting on his interests.

"Yes. I did."

He followed that up by leaning toward the blond, cupping the back of his head and kissing him full on the lips with no warning.

"Mm!" Ronald hummed in surprise, reaching out to set his cup on the coffee table before he spilled his drink, and so he could freely kiss him back.

He'd done it again; acted on impulsive desire with hardly a care for the consequences. Vaguely wondering what was happening to him lately, William shooed away thoughts of how this would look on his record, should anyone happen to see him doing this with a subordinate. He'd locked his door for privacy. It was only him and Ronald. Technically they were not on the clock right now, so he let himself go and fell into the kiss. Somehow managing to keep holding his coffee upright, he slid his fingers through Ronald's hair and deepened it.

It was the little things one had to appreciate in life, and a kiss with an attractive reaper was one small pleasure he rarely got the chance to divulge in. Ronald gave off a small hum, leaning into the kiss and sliding his arms around William, his hands wandering across his back and feeling his muscles under the expensive suit jacket William wore. The brunet set his coffee down on the table and put both arms around him, falling even further under the spell of the kiss.

Yes, this was perfect. He wondered why he'd hesitated for so long. There were ways around their work relationship, after all. It wasn't actually forbidden for coworkers to fraternize, so long as it didn't interfere with their professional relationship at work. It was still frowned upon though, and William supposed he'd been doubtful that Ronald would be able to separate their work relationship from their personal one.

He almost started to loosen his tie and slip his jacket off, but he knew that if clothing articles started hitting the floor, he might not be able to refrain from going further than this. Kissing Ronald during a coffee break was one thing, but shagging him was quite another. Besides, this was only the beginning and William was a meticulous man. There were more appropriate settings than his office to finalize this, and despite his aggression at the end of their date, he thought he'd like to test the waters a bit, first.

Hearing the click of a mug being set down and feeling both of William's hands, Ronald let himself spring into action, pushing William over and down onto the sofa, settling on top of him without breaking the kiss. He doubted they had time for much…but he would count it a successful snogging if he got to see William in need of a comb when they were done.

Surprised by the bold move, William impulsively cupped Ronald's bottom, his tongue thrusting deep into his mouth with greater passion. Propriety be damned; he'd earned this. His hips pushed upwards against Ronald's and his fingertips dug into the trousers covering that firm little derriere. The coffee sat forgotten on the glass-top table nearby, slowly losing heat as the two Dispatch agents made out with each other.

Ronald hummed, his legs tangled with Will's as he shifted and rubbed against the older reaper, tempted to see if he could get away with unbuttoning the supervisor's vest and shirt. Choosing to see if he could, he slid his hand up along Will's chest, his fingers playing with the first button, silently asking permission.

William probably should have stopped him, but he didn't. As the questing fingers began to work at the buttons of his vest, he dragged his mouth away from Ronald's and kissed his throat. His gloved hands began to reciprocate against his better judgment, loosening the blond's tie before flicking open the buttons of his vest. His breath quickened, all sense of reason evaporating beneath the assault of lust too long denied.

"Ronald," he murmured huskily against the smooth skin of his companion's neck, "we should be mindful…of our location."

He made no move to stop him though, nor did he cease his own actions.

The blond tugged Will's tie loose and started on his shirt, "You locked the door…I heard it click…" Ronald breathed, moving to press kisses to his collarbone as he worked open his shirt, his chin brushing lightly against the bit of chest he'd exposed.

William suppressed a shudder of desire. He couldn't recall the last time he'd satisfied his baser urges, and here he had this wholly desirable young man on top of him, hot and willing. It wasn't as if they were strangers. He'd already opened the door to a romantic relationship with him and there was no closing it, now. Not usually the sort of reaper to allow his personal needs to trump his common sense, William found it harder to resist by the moment. At the mercy of his lust, he accidentally popped one of Ronald's buttons off his shirt in his haste to pull it open.

"Pardon me," he breathed politely, even as he tugged his gloves off to explore that sweet, lithe torso with his bare hands.

Ronald shifted his shoulders in a shrugging motion. He popped buttons all the time due to his careless nature. He only had to go to Grell to ask him to fix the button like he always did. Grell was good at sewing, after all. His buttons didn't matter…William's probably did. They'd likely be caught if they both were missing buttons.

"Button's don't matter," he breathed, "Just kiss me, Will."

Too caught up in his desire to care much about his own clumsiness, the brunet readily complied. His tongue delved into Ronald's mouth as his hands slid over his bared chest and stomach. He stroked the smooth expanse, memorizing each knot of muscle, each rib, and the softness of the skin. He briefly wondered what kind of soap Ronald used, to obtain such silky skin. He brushed his thumbs over the flat surface of the pink nipples, teasing them to an erect state. He felt Ronald's crotch twitch against his through the cover of their trousers, and he echoed the boy's soft groan of delight.

William acted on impulse yet again, sliding one hand down to fondle the bulge between his companion's legs while he toyed with his nipples, one at a time. When the blond eagerly pushed into his touch, he gave his package a possessive squeeze. He never would have imagined himself sitting here like this, feeling up his own subordinate. He'd fantasized it plenty of times before, but never did he dream that it would become a reality.

"I want you," he blurted huskily, beyond all sense of shame or restraint. Damn the rules…he wanted Ronald Knox spread out naked beneath him.

Ronald blinked down at William, biting his lip as a hue of pink spread across his face. He had never imagined that the man would ever say—no, request such a thing. And William sounded so confident.

It no longer mattered that they were in William's office. Ronald pulled back without a word and stood up, keeping his eyes on William who seemed to look confused—even hurt at first that the blond had pulled away. But his intention soon became apparent as he reached down, undoing his white belt and dropping it to the floor before his nimble fingers popped open the buttons of his slacks. His thumbs hooked in the waist to slowly push them down his legs, his shoes and socks getting caught and coming off with his black slacks, leaving him in his open shirt and vest, and his bright orange boxers.

Ronald shrugged, his shirt and vest sliding off his arms and to the floor in a heap before he slowed down even further to remove his boxer shorts, which he tossed into his one-man audience's lap with a grin.

Ronald wasn't one to be shy about his body. He was good looking, and he knew it. Apparent by the pose he took, then, allowing all of his body to be feasted on by the eyes of his superior.

"Only if you like what you see~" He teased knowingly.

William stared stupidly up at him for a moment, his thoughts frozen in his brain. He'd often wondered what Ronald's body looked like underneath his clothes, but this was beyond his expectations. Lean but not skinny, his fair skin was as smooth as silk, with fine golden hair dusting his legs. He was toned in all the right places, with a tight little stomach, a narrow waist and pectorals that hinted he worked out just enough to stay fit. His groin was in a state of obvious arousal, flushed and glistening at the tip. William suddenly had images of eating sushi off the younger reaper's nude body, and he didn't even know where the thought came from.

Yes, he very much liked what he saw, and he wanted to lay claim to it.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice low, commanding and laced with need. He reached out for him expectantly, his expression saying he expected to be obeyed without question.

"Oh? for a moment there, I thought I was too hot for you to handle, Spears." the cocky youth taunted, stepping closer and moving to straddle the man's lap. He leaned in close, taking William's hand and guiding it to touch his hip. "Go on, touch me. No need to be afraid."

The boy kissed along William's neck, sucking on his soft flesh once he knew he was below where the man's collar stopped. Though he was tempted to give him a few love bites where it would be seen as well. Give the office something to gossip about, even if they didn't know it had been 'Lady-killer Knox'. They wouldn't even guess it. Only his closest friends knew he wasn't strait.

He licked up along William's neck to his ear before whispering, "What do you want, sir?"

The supervisor's brain again froze. Dear gods, what _didn't_ he want from this alluring young man? He could think of at least a dozen things he would like to do to him, and some involved activities that he never would have imagined William T. Spears condoning…let alone participating in. He groaned in spite of himself, his fingers digging into Ronald's hips as he put both hands on them. Heavens, the boy was too sensual for his own good. That simple, seductive little question issued in such a breathy voice had a powerful effect on him; more powerful than he could deny.

The button of William's trousers popped off without warning from the strain of his arousal seeking liberation, and he glanced down at his equipment with a raised brow of surprise. "Either you've added telekinesis to your list of talents, or you've got me so blasted randy my clothing is ready to shed itself without assistance. Honestly, Knox…do you take lessons in seduction?"

The button's escape had only caught Ronald's attention because it had flown off and hit him right above his hip bone, and he looked down with wide eyes as the little plastic button fell down between William's legs and out of sight. He had never even heard of such a thing happening before.

"…Or maybe you buy your slacks too tight…" he muttered, reaching down to run his finger up along Will's shaft and to the moist tip, teasing it, "I know I'm hard to resist, but no one has ever popped their pants for me."

With a knowing smirk, he slid down the older reaper's body, settling between his legs, "No, I just do as I feel. I'm glad it's so effective on you…" he breathed as he took William junior into his mouth, giving him a hard suck as he slid his lips down all the way to the hilt.

William nearly jumped at the unexpected sensation of Ronald's mouth taking him in deep. He started to make a grab for his hair and he thought better of it. Those lips were too bloody talented and he might just tear out a chunk of Ron's hair completely by accident, if he took a handful of it right now. Desperate for something to do with his hands to brace himself, he gripped the leather cushion of his couch and sucked in a slow, deep breath. He watched as the boy's head began to bob, and his vision lost focus at the sensations he was evoking. He never would have imagined Ronald Knox being this good or this bold with him. His impression that the younger man might be too intimidated by him to relax quickly flew out the window as Ronald sucked, licked and slurped on his arousal.

On the desk, William's phone began to ring and he glanced at it without interest. Let the damned thing ring off the hook, for all he cared. He felt like he was in Heaven. He laid his head back against the sofa and he groaned, low in his throat. "Ronald," he managed to say, his voice tense with pleasure and need, "that's…oh…y-you're…"

He didn't even know what he was trying to tell him, except perhaps to warn him that he was quickly losing control of his passion.

"Mmmh…" Frustrated by the shrill ringing of the phone; He didn't want this to be interrupted; he'd waited for so long and now… No, no, he wouldn't let William push him aside for work.

Gripping William's hips, he held him in place, pressing his tongue up along the underside of his length, humming low to add vibrations to his bobbing, hoping that it'd be enough to make William ignore it…hoping he would be more to Will than work…

But then William spoke…and it wasn't asking him to let him up… that was good, and he smiled around William, continuing until the phone's rings ceased.

he pulled back, a line of saliva clinging to his lip and Will's tip as he smiled at William, climbing back up, "have you chosen what you want?" he whispered.

William had come damn close to unloading in Ronald's talented, sucking mouth. Panting in an undignified manner, he traced the mouth hovering so close to his swollen length with the tips of his fingers, trying to find his voice again. He could think of nothing to say, and so he allowed his actions to speak for him. Shaken to his core by the blond's sensual skills, he lost what remained of his carefully held composure and he grabbed Ronald's shoulders to pull him up for a searing kiss. He blindly groped at his pants as he dominated his mouth, trying to wriggle out of them fast enough to suit his needs.

Ronald gasped in surprise, running his hands down William's sides and helping to remove the offending article of clothing, pushing them from his hips and only pausing to cup a firm cheek and squeeze it.

"Ahh…William…I want you, too…" he moaned against his lips, passion dripping from his very breath.

Then he paused. He didn't have lube…he never carried such stuff with him. He was a flirt, and it never moved passed that. He was unprepared for this…and he'd be surprised if William had anything of the sort…

"Will…do you…maybe….lube?" he gasped as their two straining members rubbed together when William shifted to kick his pants off completely.

The supervisor uttered a curse beneath his breath. No, he did not keep lubricant on-hand, because dating was generally at the bottom of his list of priorities. Saliva wasn't likely to be enough, even if used liberally. If Ronald attempted to coat him enough to suit their needs, he couldn't guarantee that he would reach completion before he even finished. The boy was just too bloody good with his mouth.

Common sense said that they should satisfy their urgings in other ways and save the final act for a better time and place. He'd held back for so long, though, and he thought he deserved this, of all things he'd denied himself. There was a pharmacy on the first floor. They would have what he needed to conduct this encounter to its fullest. He didn't even fret over the assumptions that might be made when he bought it; he wanted Ronald Knox too much to care.

"Don't go anywhere," he ordered, pulling his pants back up. "I'll fetch some from downstairs." He pulled his shirt closed and he hastily buttoned it back up with shaky fingers. Thankfully he hadn't managed to get completely undressed yet. He'd never dressed so fast before in his life, and as the blond relaxed on his sofa and smirked up at him with confident sensuality, his groin twitched in his pants.

"And stop looking at me that way, Ronald Knox. I need to calm down before I leave this office."

"Yeah, but I would rather stay up." Ron said, stroking himself, his legs spread so William could see the action perfectly, "Don't be long, Will…oh!" Ron grabbed the tie that had fallen off Will's shoulders, "You'll need that…and a comb… You're hair's not bad…but it's not 'Spear's perfect'. Here." he got up and helped William finish dressing, kissing him as he tightened the man's tie.

"You aren't helping with my situation, truly," grunted the supervisor against his lips. He wondered if his zipper might pop off next. "Stop your teasing, Ronald."

He flushed at the thought of going down there to buy lubricant whilst sporting a raging erection.

Ronald gave him a cocky grin, "But it'll help you get back up here faster!" He ran his fingers through his hair to comb it in place, "You knowing I'll be up here nude and waiting for you on your sofa, needing you, moaning for you…don't make me wait too long." he whispered, sliding his hand down William's re-clothed backside.

William actually trembled with longing. Whatever he'd been expecting when he decided to make his move on Knox, he wasn't quite prepared for the magnitude of sensuality he was displaying. He cupped the back of the blond's head and kissed him deeply, delivering a silent promise to him that he intended to make it well-worth the wait. Pulling away after plundering his mouth for a moment, he straightened his tie and left the office. He stopped outside in the hallway to take a deep breath and try to calm his raging libido, fearing he may have to employ the use of ice on his crotch to calm it down.

With a moment or three of slow, deep breathing, he managed to sooth his condition just enough to keep it from being so obvious, and he hurried as much as he dared to do so, without making it too obvious. He said nothing to the sales clerk when he made it to the pharmacy and selected the most expensive lubricant they had. He flushed slightly at the quiet glance of interest she gave him, but she didn't dare make any remarks. Once he had the item of salvation safely tucked in its bag under his arm, he made his way back to the elevator and he hoped Ronald hadn't gotten bored and fallen asleep on him.

~xox~

Ronald sighed as he waited for William to return, laying across the sofa like a French pin up painting, his member thick and twitching in need and the warm sunlight from the wide window lining one wall of the office giving his skin a healthy orange-ish glow. He was lucky they were so high up in the building, no one would be able to peep in on them, even with the windows wide open.

Their was suddenly a knock at the door, and Ronald's heart leap in adrenalin. William wouldn't knock on his own door. No, that would be silly… This had to be a secretary or someone, maybe regarding that missed call not long ago…

"Mister Spears, sir?" a voice Ronald didn't recognize called out and the door handle turned.

Panicking, Ronald grabbed his clothes off the floor and ducked in under the high couch, pressing his back against the wall and hugging his clothes close, hoping he wouldn't be spotted.

Just as he pulled himself out of immediate sight, the door opened and a woman with long black hair pulled up into a bun stepped in, her arms full of folders and she looked around with a frown. Spears hardly left his office for long unless he had to go out onto the field, from what she understood. and the secretary outside hadn't told her that Mister Spears had left. Best to wait. She walked over to the sofa and sat down to await his return.

~xox~

William came back to his office expecting to see a naked, blond treat reclined on his couch waiting for him. Instead, he found his secretary sitting there and he was briefly thankful that his recently purchased goods were concealed in the shopping bag under his arm. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual.

"Miss Halloway, have you something to report to me?"

He covertly looked around for Ronald. He saw the top of the younger agent's blond head poking out from behind the couch that the secretary sat upon, and it was only through his great discipline that he managed not to let his expression give away his discovery. Ronald peeked out at him from behind the woman and put a finger to his lips, and William forced himself not to look directly at him.

"Yes, I was surprised you were not in." she eyes the bag from the pharmacy, "Are your headaches still bothering you? You should think of taking a vacation." she said, standing back up and walking over to him, "These have been sent over for you to look over from different departments. Mostly Medical staffing. Apparently, not all of them had been sent over concerning the escape of Legendary Death."

She paused and glanced back at the coffee table, "And you need to cut down of your coffee…there is no need for you to drink two mugs at once."

William maintained his stoic front, glancing at the coffee and somehow keeping his expression neutral. "The first grew cold while I was going over paperwork. You needn't worry; I will be fine. I intend to enjoy some well-earned pleasures, soon."

He didn't dare glance Ronald's way as he said it, but the statement was a subtle reminder to his hidden guest that he hadn't abandoned his intentions for him.

"Good. No one can last as long as you do without breaks. It can't be healthy for you…and it is starting to show. Your cheeks are flushed. Perhaps you need rest sooner rather than later."

She handed him the files and turned towards the door, reaching for the handle, "Take care of this case, sir, but take care of your own needs. We can't afford to loose you. You are the hardest worker we have seen since, well, since Legendary Death…You know, before he snapped, went mad and left dispatch. Hate to see that happen again." she said, slipping out of the room, "Good day, sir."

The door closed with a click.

"I hope you didn't run into problems on your mission…" Ronald grunted as he slid himself out from his hiding place, "My stay here was quite the adventure in itself."

He stood up and grinned, his abs rippling as he pushed himself up and approached William. He reached out, grabbing William's tie to pull it loose again, eager to get the man just as naked.

William would have responded if it weren't for his companion trying to suck his tongue down his throat. All he managed to get out was a muffled grunt, and then he dropped his newly purchased package to the floor and embraced the tawny glory before him. He somehow figured out how to lock the door behind him before clutching Ronald's naked buttocks almost desperately, pulling him hard against his body. The desire he'd just managed to strong-arm back under control reared its greedy head once more, and his trousers once again began to poke out obscenely at the crotch.

Ronald pulled William's shirt and vest open again, this time with less care and nearly popping the buttons. a few even got loose and would have to be secured again later. But he had waited too long under the couch to care.

He pushed them off Will's shoulders and let them drop to the floor.

"No more interruptions…" he muttered against his lips.

"I quite agree," answered William. He ran his hands over Ronald's body, his touch leisurely and sensual despite the powerful need that he was feeling. After all, rushing this encounter would diminish the pleasure of it. He had him now, and he could put his work on the back-burner for a little while to enjoy him. It was only through his tenacious discipline that he was able to calm himself down to take more time with it. He stroked the tight little stomach, the narrow hips, the firm buttocks. He procrastinated on touching the swollen erection, though he dearly wanted to. He again had to admire how soft Ronald's skin was, and he began to kiss his neck and shoulder to have a taste of it. The hint of whatever cologne the boy used lingered on his skin, and he tasted like sunshine to William.

The supervisor huffed a little at his own romantic notions. It wasn't possible for someone to taste like sunshine, of course. Sunshine had no scent or flavor. Still, as he kissed and nibbled the smooth skin, he couldn't rid himself of the comparison. He spread his hands over Ronald's hips as the blond finished removing his upper garments, and he stepped out of his pants, shoes and socks as Ronald removed them for him. When the blond straightened back up to embrace him again, William finally allowed his hands to explore the jutting arousal begging for his touch. He curled his fingers around the velvety, flushed length and he stroked it slowly, while fondling a pink, hard nipple with his other hand.

"You are," William breathed huskily, "perfection."

He never would have imagined himself uttering such a blatant compliment to anyone, but as bodies went, perfection was just what Ronald's was. He had the exact build William fantasized about in a lover. Combined with that soft skin, the mischievous smiles and the boyishly handsome visage, he was exactly what William wanted in a partner. In fact, now that he'd demonstrated his sensuality, he was more than the supervisor had ever dreamed of.

"Yeah, I know." Ronald smirked, "But so are you."

Ronald pressed his lips to William's neck, sucking and licking again to create a second mark there. He stepped back, guiding William over to the sofa, using his lips and kisses as a leash to guide him. William tactfully paused long enough to scoop up the tube of lubricant he'd bought, and when they made it to the couch he pushed Ronald down onto it with a hand to the chest. He smirked at the brief expression of surprise on his face, but Ronald Knox apparently wasn't the sort to be caught off-guard for long. The blond's returning smirk held a bit of a challenge in it, and William was all too happy to answer it.

He joined him on the sofa, guiding him onto his back for the time being. He wanted to explore that tempting young body for a few moments, before things went too far. A quick shag didn't interest him in the slightest, pressed for time though he always seemed to be. He wanted to savor it, because he knew what a rare treat he was about to get.

Ronald slid his hand along William's arm, smiling up at him as he was joined on the sofa, "So, do you know what you want, now? You seem like it." He connected their lips, relaxing back against the cushions. "Tell me what you want, William." His hand slid up into Will's hair, gripping it. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you…"

"I think that should be rather obvious by my current state and the fact that I just ran a marathon downstairs and back to procure lubricant," stated the older reaper, wincing a little as his hair was pulled, "but yes; I do want you as much as you want me, Ronald."

He kissed him again, grinding his arousal against the blond's. His tongue pushed for dominance in Ronald's mouth as he tried to assert himself again. He groaned in spite of himself at the feel of the blond's hardened cock rubbing against his, and he reached down to grip both shafts. He broke the kiss to look into Ronald's eyes as he began to stroke, his fingers unable to meet around the girth of both erections.

"I've wanted you for longer than I care to confess," he whispered, gazing into the passionate eyes of his younger companion.

Ronald shivered under William's touch, his mouth gaping open and his eyes closing in pleasure. It had been so, so long since he had last been touched in such a way by anyone but himself…and this felt _so_ much better! Trembling, he gripped William's shoulders and moaned out William's name.

He opened his eyes, lids hooded as he gazed up at the older reaper, his cocky gin having softened without his knowing to a softer, longing look of love. "I've wanted to be with you since the beginning," he admitted softly. "Not just because of admiration; I wanted to be with you romantically."

The declaration made William's heart pound. He couldn't decide if that was annoying or exhilarating. As a man whose first priority had always been his work, he had difficulty imagining himself in a relationship with anyone…but Styx help him, he thought he could make an exception for Ronald Knox. He continued to stroke his hand up and down their lengths, pressed tightly together, and he kissed him again.

Ronald smiled into the kiss, getting the feeling that William was accepting his confession. it made him feel he didn't have to worry about this happening only once…and his smile turned genuine.

He let one hand feel around, his fingers finding the bottle of lube and popping it open behind William's back before squeezing some out onto his hand and reaching down to help rub their lengths together. William's breath caught as Ronald's hand intermingled with his, gliding over their taut, aroused flesh with skill. He decided to leave it to him, and he rested his own hand overtop of the blond's encouragingly as it massaged the slippery substance over both erections.

He decided to do a bit of marking of his own; though he chose a more discreet spot to do it than Ronald had. He took his lips away from Ronald's and he moved down his throat to his shoulder, sucking strongly at the spot where it met his collarbone. A raspberry stain appeared on the soft skin as he drew the blood to the surface and he smirked a bit, feeling like he's marked his territory. He'd always considered hickeys to be crass; practically vulgar. After all, who with any class would advertise their romantic forays? Such things were meant to be private, not shown to the world.

But he was finding himself conducting a lot of behavior with Ronald that he would have otherwise deemed scandalous. The blond had awakened a side of him he hardly knew existed, and he was too driven by desire now to care much for propriety. He reached with his free hand for the lubricant that Ronald had just so cleverly employed, and he removed his hand from on top of the blond's so that he could apply some to his fingers. He knew how he wanted this encounter to go, and he was sure Ronald would speak up if he had any objections. William began to guide the younger reaper onto his back, intending to make him comfortable while he prepared him. How they proceeded after that…well, he would see if Ronald had a preferential position. William had frankly been fantasizing about bending the smug, sexy little terror over his desk and shagging him cross-eyed, but that wasn't quite the most romantic way to conduct a first-time encounter.

Ronald was too distracted with the sensations he was feeling from running his slick hand over his and William's shafts, he hardly realized he'd been lain down until he felt slick fingertips rubbing and circling his tight entrance, drawing a gasp from his lips.

His eyes snapped up to meet William's, a blush crossing his cheeks as the man held his gaze with a serious but gentle look, the corners of his lips twitching slightly into a smile, making Ronald's heart pound.

He was surprised, he hadn't expected William to take initiative like this. He thought he'd have to help guide William to do it. But then again…William wasn't the kind of man who would act inexperienced in anything, and he always made the effort to do it perfectly, first time or not. It made him wonder if William had done this before with someone else…he didn't like that thought but he shoved it aside as he dropped his own length, focusing on making William's slick and ready.

Charmed by Ronald's blush in spite of himself, William lowered his mouth to his for a kiss. He eased a finger in at the same time he entered his mouth with his tongue. His lips swallowed the resulting gasp, and he rocked into the blond's touch. Ronald was tight; tighter than William anticipated. He'd have almost suspected he was about to bed a virgin, but that seemed ludicrous to him with all the dating Ronald did. Surely he'd been with at least one other person before. He gently pumped his finger forward and back, exercising the entrance to make it relax. He stroked the boy's tongue with his own and he groaned softly with pleasure as Ronald's hand steadily moved along his length.

Ronald shivered, his stroking faltering slightly when Will's finger first penetrated its way inside him and began to move in and out, coaxing the walls and ring of muscles to loosen and relax.

He slipped his free arm around William's shoulders, grunting pleasurably as William's finger slipped in deeper. "Oh Rhea!" Ronald gasped, their kiss breaking just long enough for the words to slip out, "William!"

He spread his legs a little wider, speeding up his hand's stroking motion. His lips greedily stealing kisses and generously giving them in return. Lips upon lips, cheeks, neck, jaw… Passion beginning to take over his mind completely.

His actions spurred the older reaper to greater lust, and William found himself wanting to rush it so that he could be inside of him sooner—which was unacceptable. He never rushed anything important, and he could tell by how tight Ronald was that getting hasty would be a mistake. It was quite difficult to maintain that logic while the boy's hand was stroking him with such skill and enthusiasm, though. William broke into a sweat and he rested his forehead against Ronald's bare shoulder for a moment, trying to master his desire.

"Calm down, Ronald," he breathed, thrusting into his touch in spite of himself. "I've waited too long for this, to give a poor performance now." He kissed his moaning lips again, and he added another finger to the penetration.

"Saying that—_ahhn_!—i-is one thing…" Ronald panted and moaned, "D-Doing is another…"

Ronald peeked open an eye and looked up at William, "You over estimate my self control. I want you—and you are making me feel good…"

He paused, moaning as the two fingers inside him scissored and stretched him more, "Do you want me to stop touching you, here?" he asked, briefly squeezing William's thick member in his hand, "I can focus elsewhere…"

William grunted softly at the feel of having his sex squeezed that way. "I think," he said breathlessly, "it would be wise for you to leave off that, for a bit." He would have returned the favor, if he wasn't using his other hand to keep himself propped up. He kissed the blond again, pleading silently for patience so that he could make this an encounter Ronald would remember for the rest of his days. He was starting to loosen around his invading fingers…soon he might be ready for his shaft.

Ronald nodded and withdrew his hand from William's shaft, sliding his fingers up over his hip and side before he wrapped his arms around his torso to keep his touches a little more chaste. But he couldn't help but tease William one last time; rolling his hips and grinding their groins together. with a sultry moan. "Will…"

The supervisor was startled to hear a growl issue from his own throat. He'd never made such a noise before, and it was further proof of how easily this reaper managed to shred his self-restraint. A bit embarrassed over it, he flushed and made it a point to pay closer attention to the noises he made. He pumped his fingers a little faster, putting more force behind them as he claimed Ronald's lips again and plundered his mouth. Closer…Ronald was getting so close to being ready for him. He only needed to hold back for a little while longer, and then he'd be his. William wasn't usually the sort to use the word "hot" to describe anyone, but Ronald certainly matched that description—especially right now.

The sound William had made had brought another cocky smirk to Ron's lips, but it didn't last long before it was lost under another heated kiss, a few more moans of his own muffled into William's mouth.

He let his hands explore almost freely. Keeping to his back, chest, arms, and a few times, his firm backside, giving his cheeks a good squeeze.

"Will…Will, I can't wait much longer…" He gasped into William's lips, "Take me! Please!" he begged, heart pounding in his chest so hard he was sure Will could hear it.

"Shh," warned the brunet with a smirk. "We can't have the entire floor alerted to what we are doing, Ronald."

It was a hollow warning, though. He'd often wondered what it would be like to hear Ronald call his name in such desperate passion, and it was as intoxicating as he'd imagined it would be. Feeling he'd exercised him enough, he withdrew his fingers from within him and he grasped his aching arousal, lining it up with the boy's prepared entrance. He stared down at him as he nudged in slowly, watching his face as he began to fill him with his length. It felt exquisite, and for a moment his eyes went blank and heavy-lidded at the sensation of it. He withdrew a little and pushed in further, a low noise of pleasure arising in his throat. It was going to take a bit of finesse to fit his entire length inside of the squeezing, narrow entry.

"God, Knox," breathed William in a strained voice. "H-have you even ever…been with a man before?"

Ronald's eyes were closed securely, his breath hitching as William pressed in further sending shivers through his body, an aching throb asking for more despite the small shoots of pain every once in a while. He had expected it to hurt more than it did…it was a nice surprise that it was more pleasurable than not.

So caught up in the sensation, he nearly missed William's question, and it took a moment to register in his mind. He opened his eyes to look at him, panting as he parted his lips to speak.

"I—I have but…not like th-this…never all the w-way…" he admitted.

Stunned, the supervisor stared at him. It seemed preposterous to him, that Ronald Knox, Playboy of Dispatch, could possibly be a virgin. The evidence was currently squeezing his swollen length, however. As tight as he was and as open as his expression of wonderment, William quickly deduced that he had to be telling the truth. He never would have guessed it, believing the charming little flirt had to have at least bedded _one_ man before him.

A slow smile subtly curved William's lips. He was Ronald's first. He found that inordinately pleasing, even as he wondered how Ronald would feel knowing the same wasn't true in reverse. William was no player, though. He'd only slept with two people in his years of being a Shinigami, and he'd never wanted either of them as much as he wanted this blond. He eased in further, his breath again catching as more of him was sheathed. When he had it all the way in, he eased back and withdrew, before repeating the motion. He took it slowly, and he began to grip and stroke the blond's stiffened sex as he pumped, to make it more pleasurable for him.

Ronald flushed deeper under the stunned look on William's face. He'd never admitted such a thing to anyone before, and he wondered why he had told William. but the thoughts faded when William started to move again, drawing more soft moans from his lips.

"H-have you?" he panted, "Y-you seem to know what you're doing…you feel good…hardly any pain…I thought the first time was supposed to hurt a lot…"

Pleased to know he wasn't causing him more discomfort than he could help, the brunet caught his breath and tried to consider his answer carefully. "I have. It was a long time ago since the last." He kissed Ron's neck and caressed his flushed face, thrusting a bit faster but avoiding too much force. "I've maintained a staunch record of celibacy since then…until now."

"Nnyah!" Ronald dropped his head back, the leather couch creaking slightly as his sweaty skin stuck to it's upholstery, his body being rocked back and forth with William's quick movements inside him. "Will—!"

Instinctively, his tilted his hips up into William's movements, his arms encircling Will's shoulders and holding him closer. The brunet groaned in response, putting a little more force behind it. He was breaking into a sweat and getting flushed like his companion, driven to a state of need and pleasure he couldn't recall ever experiencing before. The clever little terror was clamping down on him each time he withdrew, squeezing him delightfully. The tight coil of heat in his belly and groin kept getting more intense with each moment.

"Ronald," he gasped, brow furrowing as he fought for control.

In William's hand, Ronald's member twitched, the pressure building up from the pleasure growing close to his limit his shaft aching in need of release.

"Close!" He cried out in warning, his body stiffening as William seemed to speed up just a little more. "Oh—Sweet mother Rhea, too good! I—!" Unable to take it anymore, and not wanting to let his cry of completion out unmuffled, he hide his face in Will's neck, crying into his flesh as the pressure released and his completion spilled over, coating his abs and William's hand.

"Unh," grunted William as the little pulses and spasms made Ronald's entry constrict even further, making him breathless. He tried to last, but it was all too much for him and he threw his head back and spilled himself inside of him. Ronald was still coming as William pulsed inside of him, tensed over him. He held himself up for as long as he could on trembling arms, his length twitching within the younger reaper until he had nothing left. Finally he collapsed, his skin dewy with perspiration and his stomach slippery with Ronald's libation.

Panting for breath, William managed to lift his head to look down at the blissful expression of his underling. "I believe," he gasped, "I shall need this lounge cleaned."

There was no bite to it; in fact, he actually smiled as he said it.

"Nah," The flushed boy panted, "We just broke it in is all…it's leather, it can wipe down easy…" He trailed off, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to William's in a kiss, "Because as far as I'm concerned…this isn't going to be left at a one-time-thing."

Ron chuckled, "Best coffee break ever…"

The supervisor found himself smiling again as well. Ronald had a way of coaxing smiles from him. It was an unfamiliar expression to feel on his own face, to the older reaper. His lips weren't used to smiling, and laughter barely ever escaped them at all. He relaxed on top of his companion, his softening length still wedged inside of him. He stroked Ronald's sweat-dampened bangs back from his eyes and he admired the way he looked in the afterglow.

"It certainly won't be a singular event," he promised softly, and he kissed Ronald's sleepy eyelids. "Don't fall asleep on me though, Ronald. We eventually have to peel ourselves off one another, tidy up and get back to work."

"We could always peel ourselves off each other after a nap… or get back to work before tidying ourselves up…really, it doesn't matter as long as we get tidied up before we leave the office. As hot as I am, I doubt I'd be helpful to production should I leave here in the buff." the youth joked, his soft whispers in William's ear.

"You are enough of a distraction fully dressed," William said with a smirk. "If you remain unclothed, I won't accomplish anything at all."

"Yeah," Ron gave him a cocky look, "But now you know what's under those clothes. Can you keep your mind from imagining me naked?" he teased, running his fingers lightly over William's cheek, "Which would be more distracting?"

William raised a brow. "There isn't so much as a single drop of modesty in you, is there?"

"Nobody's perfect. I'm hot and I know it. I don't see why I should hide or deny it but it doesn't mean I'll act like an office whore or that I can't be loyal to my special someone." he settled his hands on Will's hips, "Who happens to be just as hot under his suit."

"Hmm. That's a difficult argument to counter." William kissed him and sighed, wishing they were done for the day so that he could just remain there like that for a while. "Care to go out for a bite when this work day is finished? I feel like spoiling the both of us, before this case buries us too far in paperwork."

"You're kidding, right? You know I love going out after work!" Ronald grinned, "Whether its out to a party…or as a party for two. You have to wear me down quite a bit to make me want to go straight home to my couch."

"I suspected you would say something like that." With reluctance, the supervisor eased off of his blond companion and got up to make use of the handkerchief in his discarded jacket. He wiped himself off with it before obliging Ronald by doing the same for him, cleaning up traces of the evidence of their encounter. He bent over to kiss him once more, before balling up the cloth and tossing it across the room into his wastebasket.

He began to slip out of the lover mode and back into work mode, though his tone was significantly more relaxed than usual when he put his pants on and spoke to the blond again. "Let's get this day over with."

He glanced up when he got no response, and he sighed. Ronald had fallen asleep with a contented grin on his face. "Oh, honestly."

~xox~

-To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

"Vincent…Vincent, can you hear me?"

His poor old heart hammered in his chest as he gently spoke to his subject. Undertaker stroked his lover's twitching hand as his body began to wake. He knew from previous experience that it could be hours before he saw more than reflexive responses. He had deliberately customized his treatment to allow a slower re-awakening and give the mind more time to catch up with the body. He did this in order to spare Vincent undue trauma, though he dared say he would still suffer some in the beginning no matter what he did.

Undertaker checked the fluid bag he'd set up to feed into the IV. His dollies tended to wake either very hungry or very thirsty, so he was taking measures to ensure Vincent would be at least marginally hydrated. The pallor of death had already left the Earl's skin, to be replaced by a healthier, pinkish tone as the cells came back to life and the heart began to beat again. He had him strapped down securely so that the inevitable spasms of waking would not result in Vincent rolling off the table. The Earl's eyes were blindfolded by the bandage that the reaper had wrapped around his head, and a tray of basic equipment sat nearby for the Undertaker to keep monitoring his vitals.

"You may not be able to hear me yet, love," whispered the mortician, smiling with hope and excitement, "but I'll not leave your side. I'll be the first thing you see when you can open your eyes, and I've ensured nobody will disturb us."

In fact, he'd taken the liberty to drug the Viscount, his household and all his guests. A simple colorless, odorless vapor wafting through the manor was all it took to make every mortal inside succumb and fall into a dreamless sleep. By the time they awoke, Vincent should already have regained fine motor control and the power of speech…and Undertaker would be long-gone with him.

"Where I'll be taking you won't be as nice as this place," apologized the Undertaker, "but it will be safe. Humble, but cozy. You can recover in peace, and I can fill you in on everything you've missed during your sleep."

He softly stroked the blue-black hair on Vincent's head as the twitching became more pronounced, impulsively attempting to soothe him. Everything was intact, though his scalp might feel tingly and itchy for the first week of his new life. The stasis had done away with the need to keep Vincent's hair trimmed, halting the growth of both hair and nails and literally freezing his body in time. Undertaker briefly wondered if he would prefer to keep his customary hairstyle, grow it out or cut it shorter.

"I suppose we'll find that out when you come too," he reasoned, smiling at him.

~xox~

Time slowly ticked by as Undertaker waited, lovingly watching over his long lost love with a nervous excitement. With each twitch of Vincent's body, he came closer and closer to his renewed life. He came closer to waking up…and Undertaker became closer to knowing if Vincent would hate him forever, or stay by his side. Either way, Vincent would be alive… and maybe, he'd eventually forgive him if he could save Ciel.

Vincent's eyes began to move under his closed eyelids and the bandages covering them, as if he was dreaming. It was a sign that his brain functions were starting to kick in.

An hour passed, then half of the next before a low, barely audible moan sounded from the Earl's throat. The first Undertaker had heard of that expressive voice since the night his life had been taken.

The twitching in his core and limbs began to die down, and his head turned ever so slowly to the side as Vincent began to awaken, as if he'd only been asleep over these long years. Kind of like Sleeping Beauty…or in his case, Sleeping Handsome.

He couldn't move.

Why couldn't he move? His arms felt heavy like something was holding them down, and his eyes didn't want to open. Why didn't they open? He managed to open his mouth, a line of drool he wasn't aware of rolling from the corner of his lips and down his cheek to the pillow under his aching head. But the only sound that would come out was a rough, dry moan. as if he hadn't spoken in—who knows how long. It confused him.

What had happened? Why couldn't he move or speak? Why couldn't he remember anything?

He tried to call out again, this time his voice managing to sound a little more normal as he was able to form a single word. The first word that came to him.

"….H-help…"

The reaper immediately squeezed Vincent's hand, his heart leaping in his throat. "Vincent…"

He reached for the overhead light and he dimmed it. "You're safe, love. I'm right here. Do you recognize my voice?"

Vincent turned his head in the direction of the voice…it was familiar…but he couldn't place it. The name that was said was familiar, too…and it seemed to fit…his name… he was sure it was his name.

"Help…" he repeated. for some reason it seemed the only word his tongue was willing to form.

Undertaker loosened the straps securing Vincent to the table, releasing his hand long enough to do so. "There now, that ought to be better, my lord. I know you're mightily confused right now, but I'll explain everything to you very soon. Here, can you squeeze my hand?"

He lifted said hand from the table, now that Vincent's arms were free. He kissed the top of it and applied gentle pressure.

The hand—the one that had suffered a bullet wound clean through before Undertaker operated on it to fit up the bones and tissue, twitched from the touch. a sharp pain shooting through the old wound, as if the pain from the bullet was still remembered by his nerves, only re-awoken from the movements. Vincent gasped.

"Help—no…it hurts!"

Something had happened to him…something bad…something that had scared him… Fear, worry….his heart racing, his mind buzzing….

Undertaker gentled his hold on the hand, and he reached out to stroke the top of Vincent's head with his free hand. "Shh, love. I'll give you something for the pain, but you're recalling old hurts. Let your mind catch up to your body, Vincent. You're safe, now."

The ancient closed his eyes. He had expected this reaction, and yet he wasn't prepared for it. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Vincent in such a state, no matter how many times he'd seen it before. He tried to comfort him, hoping some part of him would recognize his voice and calm down enough to ride it out.

"I'm right here. I've _always_ been right here, and I always shall be, my lord. I haven't left your side. Just try to relax."

Vincent's breathing quickened slightly as he struggled to remember. Flashes of a scene played out in his mind.

A wall of shelved, filed to the top with books, a warm hearth lit with a crackling fire, a leather bound book open across his lap, and a glass of scotch on a table near his hand.

Then the fire was surrounding him, it had leap out of the fireplace and onto the area rug. a dark figure silhouetted against the flames…

The barrel of a gun and…

Vincent cried out, his head feeling as it was splitting in half as his body arched up off the table, his hands flying up to his head and grabbing it as his body remembered the pain.

Undertaker kept talking to him, helpless to stop the agony of his recalled death. He would have spared him this pain if he could, but that would have meant bringing him back un-whole. He didn't want only _parts_ of Vincent back. He wanted the entire man…the entire soul. Even had he clipped the end of those memories from the records, he would have had to formulate some explanation for why he was here, and why he could never go back to his former life. Vincent Phantomhive was the one being in existence that the Undertaker could not bring himself to lie to.

"Oh, my dear," he whispered, stroking Vincent's straining arms as he stood over him. "Don't…you'll hurt yourself. It's over now."

Vincent's body threw himself forward blindly into Undertaker's arms, trembling as he held his aching head. the pain still deep within his brain. the bandages hiding his eyes darkened with wetness as he began to weep like a child, trying to understand…was he dead? if he was dead why was he alive? If he was alive, why did he feel like he should be dead?

It was a shock to the reaper's senses to feel Vincent against him again, and his arms stole around him, holding him tightly. He closed his eyes as he embraced him, savoring the moment even as his heart bled for Vincent's pain…and for his part in it. "Shh, there now, Vincent. It's all right."

He stroked the Earl's hair slowly, holding his trembling upper body against his chest as he wept. "There, now."

Undertaker's eyes burned and he blinked back tears himself. He'd waited for so long…so long to embrace him like this again. In a reaper's lifetime, a few years shouldn't have mattered so much. For him though, each year without this man had felt like an eternity. He knew now that he should have let him rest, but…

"I tried to let you go," he murmured against his lover's hair, "told myself all mortals die, and that's just the way of things. I couldn't, though. Not that way. Not when I could have saved you."

His tears began to fall then…tears he hadn't wept since the night he arrived at the Phantomhive manor to find he was too late to save anyone. They dripped into Vincent's hair as he rocked him slowly, a gesture meant to bring some measure of comfort to them both.

Dead…he did die….he was dead…that figure with a gun had killed him…so where was he? What was he? How long had he been in limbo? That soothing darkness that seemed to be fading from his memory all too quickly. That had been nice…there had been no pain…

After a long moment, his fingers slowly felt his own face, following the bandaged around his head. he wanted it off…he wanted to see who yanked him out of that darkness…where he had been dragged to.

Undertaker noticed the movement, and he drew back to help him as Vincent fumbled clumsily with the bandages. "Here, let me get those off for you." He swallowed and sniffed, pushing back his emotions and blinking away his tears. "Easy love, you'll tangle them. Just let me…"

He began to unwrap the bandage with skill, unwinding it from around Vincent's head. As he did that, he pushed the fringe of his bangs back so that his lover would see his face as soon as his eyes came into focus.

"Just be aware that your eyes will be sensitive to light," warned the reaper in a more level voice. "At least for a time. Might take a while for them to focus well, too. Like your muscles, they need to be exercised."

He spoke clinically, finding it calming. "You'll feel a bit stiff and sore for a while, but I think you'll find your senses will be sharper than they were before and your body will be stronger. I'll help you, my lord. I'll do whatever you require to recover."

The bandage was nearly unwound, and Undertaker ached to see his lover's soft brown eyes gazing at him again…really _seeing_ him, rather than staring blankly in death. They were swirled with blue now due to the reanimation process, but they were still Vincent's eyes.

Vincent kept his eyes closed firmly after he felt the last of the bandages fall away, and he took a deep breath, a few lingering tears rolling down his cheeks. He was nervous. Where was he? Heaven? Hell?

His bangs fell over his forehead, making the skin feel itchy, so he quickly pushed them away, not touching his forehead where he would have felt the stitches along his hairline.

Another deep breath, and he slowly cracked open his eyes, taking heed to the warning and letting his eyes slowly adjust to the dim candlelight. Deep, chocolate-brown eyes swirled with an inhuman blue looked around. all he could see was rough shapes of things, and he blinked a few times, hoping to help his eyes adjust.

Undertaker dropped the bandaging and took a seat on his stool, holding both of Vincent's hands in his. He watched his eyes open, watched the pupils expand and contract as his vision adjusted. He smiled as the earl blinked, feeling like he could dance with joy.

"Well?" he asked as that gaze settled on him, trying not to be impatient.

It took a moment more. The shapes began to sharpen, details starting to show…shoulders…a scarred neck…a wide, warm, strangely familiar smile… Eyes of green, lined with gold…long hair like snow.

Vincent studied the face, trying to place where he knew it from. It wasn't that of the killer…this man was taller, he was sure of it… But as hard as he tried, he couldn't quite place him. No name came to him, none at all.

Undertaker's joyful smile faded with the realization that he was looking at a man that did not recognize him. "Vincent, it's me. Your—"

He nearly referred to himself as his "angel", as Vincent once used to call him in the dark hours of the night when they were alone together, but it seemed so hollow now. He was no angel…never had been, really…but Vincent used to make him feel like one. The reaper swallowed and revised his title.

"—Advisor. Think back, love. Take it slowly. Do you recall your wife Rachel? Your son Ciel? Me?"

"…Wife? Son..?" Vincent didn't remember having such a family, their names didn't ring a bell, either. Maybe this man was mistaken? Maybe not…. He had no idea, after all. Maybe he'd remember if he saw their faces?

"…Are…they here?"

But no, he had died…if they were here, they'd be dead too, right?

"…Are we dead?" He spoke as if he was stunned, trying to make sense of the world around him, "Are you dead?"

Undertaker shook his head, then changed his mind, nodded, and then shook his head again. "Oh mercy, how do I explain this? Vincent…that's _your_ name, by the way…your wife is unfortunately deceased. Your son is still alive. _You_ are still alive—after a fashion. As for me, well I'm a reaper. I'm quite alive, I assure you, but I'm not like ordinary human beings. Neither are you, anymore. Vincent…it's so difficult to explain and I understand how confused you must be, but I need to perform some tests."

His previous subjects for this process seemed to have better memory recall than Vincent did, and he felt a sense of dread. The injury to his brain from the bullet…though he had used all of his skills to repair it once the bullet was dislodged, he'd suspected it might take additional time to heal.

"…What?" Vincent's hand shot up to his head where the pain (now a dull throbbing) had been, his fingers feeling the scar left from the bullet entry in his forehead. His eyes widened, and then his fingers found the stitches at his hairline, following them around.

No…_no!_

in a confused panic, he tried to get up, but his body wasn't used to supporting his weight, and he collapsed to the floor, knocking over Undertaker's tray of tools, the loud clattering assaulting his ears.

Gasping, the earl grabbed the shiny silver tray and looked in it's reflective surface at the scars and stitches—and his eyes.

Wrong…this was all wrong…

"What have you done..? What did you do to me?!" he dropped the tray, "Why?!" he cried out, "Why did you pull me from the darkness into this?!"

The Undertaker stood there standing over him, resembling a slack-jawed idiot despite his personal fortifications and expectations of this encounter. "Vincent…I…you shouldn't have gone the way you did. Not you…not a man like you."

He curled his fingers into his hair, feeling a sort of mad desperation himself. "You…and your family…they were the only thing that I…I…Vincent, please stop. No! Don't do that!"

He knelt beside the Earl as Vincent began to try to tear out the stitches along his scalp line, as though it would free him from this life.

"I want to go back! Let me go back!" Vincent cried out, fighting Undertaker's hold as the reaper stopped him from trying to free himself from his body. Death had been peaceful. Unfeeling… it was relaxing to not exist. No pain, no emotions…he wanted to go back! There was nothing for him here.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, mourning the loss of his death. but as he struggled, he began to calm, having used more energy than he should have, slowly relaxing and letting the reaper hold him.

Undertaker held him and rocked him. "Give it time, my lord. Please. You'll see. You'll understand. Even if you hate me in the end, I did this for you."

He bowed his silver head over the soft, blue-black head nestled against him and he struggled not to cry right along with Vincent.

"Why?" Vincent choked out, "Why bring me back? What even am I? Who am I to you to make you do all this for me?" He felt the stitches again, "…How..?"

"There is too much to explain to you right now, my lord." Undertaker caught up his hand to stop him from attempting to rip out his stitches again. "Please, if you can even recall the sound of my voice, some part of you must know I'd never hurt you intentionally."

Undertaker was getting a sick feeling of dread in his gut, and he wondered if Vincent was capable of remembering him at all. Perhaps he should have ended his own miserable existence, before resorting to this. He never would have considered himself to be one of those suicidal reapers, but that unconsidered option was looking more appealing by the minute.

"No," he growled—more to himself than to Vincent—"I won't turn away from what I've done and leave you abandoned. Not a chance. No matter how much I hate myself for it."

"No, Tell me!" Vincent insisted, not having the energy to yell it, but there was force behind his firm words, "Why am I here?" he stared up into Undertaker's bi-colored eyes.

The Undertaker fought an inward battle. "you are here to protect your son, my lord," he finally choked out. It was the best answer he could give.

"…I don't remember having a son." Vincent countered, "You aren't answering my questions."

"You _do_ have a son, whether you remember him or not," explained the reaper, "and he's in danger of losing something far more precious than his life. I once made a vow to you that I would protect your family, even if you were gone. I failed to protect your wife, and if I could have brought her back as well, I would have. She was too far gone but you, my love, I was able to preserve and resurrect. Right now your memories are partially hidden from you. Whether it's from the head injury that killed you or the fact that it's been so long since you last had access to them, I can't say. In time, you might recover them and remember the son you loved…and me."

He lowered his head, letting his bangs fall over his eyes again. "I knew this might happen, but I had to bring you back. I simply…couldn't let you go."

"…Maybe you should have let me go… I remember…that someone wanted me dead. Won't they try to kill me again when they find out? How long have I been gone?" He asked, though, inwardly, he was asking different questions.

Why was this man calling him 'Love'? Why couldn't he have let him go? What kind of a relationship had they had, and if he had been married…

He shook the thoughts from his head. He didn't know what was important to ask and what wasn't. he needed to stick to one topic and hope that memories would return on their own.

"You've been gone for nearly three years, my lord. If they find out you're alive, they may very well try to come after you again," confirmed the Undertaker. "But those who orchestrated your death now have a new target, should he get in their way…your son. He's safe, because he has a butler with peculiar talents watching over him and the people that killed you seem content to leave him be…for now."

Undertaker sighed. "And yes, maybe I _should_ have let you go; but I couldn't."

_~Because I'm a selfish old bastard that got tired of watching every pleasure in life slip away. You were the final straw, Vincent…and now you don't even seem to know who I am.~_

The former Earl sighed and cradled his head. Three years. He'd been dead for three years, and it had felt like nothing to him. it felt like it had only been seconds, yet, at the same time, it felt like it had been eternity.

"…How old is my son? Would he recognize me if he saw me? would it be safe for me to see him?"

"He's just recently turned thirteen," answered the mortician, "and yes, he'd recognize you if he saw you—which is why I don't recommend you reveal yourself right away. Aside from some scarring from your incident and the blue in your eyes, you look the same as you did when he last saw you. It might be better if…if…"

He frowned. "Bollocks. I'd forgotten."

He'd told Ciel what he planned to do with Vincent's locket. He'd been desperate, so close to his goal…desperate and careless…and it had been the only way he could fathom to get the locket without having to fight the boy's butler and take it from him by force. Undertaker sighed. His old head wasn't what it used to be. He knew he'd gotten worse since the attack on the Phantomhive manor—sunk deeper into the madness of great age and loss. He looked at his former lover—for he could no longer refer to him as such in a current tense, given his amnesia—and he dug through his garments for the pouch of snacks he kept on him. Sticking one into his mouth, he sucked on it thoughtfully the way some men would suck on a pipe.

"Hmm."

"If what? I stay hidden? Then what's the point of bringing me back if I have to keep away from those who had me killed, and if I can't see my own son? How am I to remember?" the proud Phantomhive crossed his arms and sat in silence on the floor. Everything he asked or could think to ask seemed to lead back to 'why'. Why had he been brought back.

Undertaker bit into the cookie, chewed and swallowed before answering with a shake of his head. "Well no…that wouldn't work all that well, now that I think of it. I…may have informed your son of my intentions to bring you back."

When the resurrected noble raised an elegant brow at him, the mortician coughed. He'd never been very good at fibbing to Vincent. "Oh, all right…no need to 'mean mug' me."

He stuffed the rest of his cookie into his mouth and mumbled around it almost bashfully. "I tolf 'im. He knowfs."

"Then why isn't he here?" Vincent inquired, then frowned as a thought hit him. "…Is he upset with me for my death? That I left him alone?"

He was starting to feel a longing for the boy he couldn't quite recall. He wanted to hold the boy and tell him it'd be alright…

Undertaker finished swallowing. "My lord, all children that lose their parents blame them in some way, I think…regardless of how they passed. Ciel is no different, for all his maturity. He isn't here because I couldn't have anyone distracting me from my work, and I gave him no guarantee it would be a success. He also has no idea where we are."

The reaper thought on it, a small grin forming on his pale lips as an idea came to him. "I could tell him a fib…say the process was a failure. He needn't know until you're good and ready for him to, and you could watch over him from afar. I'd advise against meeting him in the presence of his butler anyhow. His connection with him is something we need to discuss…something you need to understand. Not to mention the fact that Dispatch authorities are likely going to be keeping an eye on him in case I try to contact him again, seeing as they're after me."

Undertaker hesitantly offered the pouch of treats to Vincent. "Biscuit?" He was fairly sure he'd corrected the flesh cravings so that Vincent could eat normal food, but eating seemed to be the furthest thing from the doll's mind, right now.

"Half of what you're saying makes no sense." Vincent complained. of course, his own resurrection made no sense either. He waved the offered treat away and looked back down at the tray he had dropped, studying his reflection. Not even his own face seemed real to him anymore.

"You need to take a few moments to gather your wits," said the mortician, "and then, we need to make our preparations to leave this place. It isn't safe for us to remain here. Once we're on the road, I'll explain everything to you in greater detail and we can decide where to go from there."

The earl sighed and nodded, hugging his legs to his chest, "You have to promise to tell me everything. Promise you'll help me remember." he stated, looking up at the reaper, "Promise me you'll let me choose what I do after I know the truth."

Undertaker hesitated, torn by the fear that this man—whom he'd risked everything to bring back—might try to leave him and get himself killed all over again. The thought of that made his chest hurt, almost as badly as it had that terrible day that took him and Rachel from him.

"I intended to help you remember anyhow, but let's make an agreement," he suggested softly, lowering his bright gaze. "Stay with me until you've recovered your memory of who you are, who your family is and who I am. At the very least, stay by my side until we know how much of those memories we can salvage. In return, I promise not to…interfere with whatever decision you come to, after that. If you still despise me for bringing you back into this world and want me gone from your side, then I will…honor that. I'll go quietly into the night like a ghost and leave you to choose whether to exist in this world or depart from it, no matter how it pains me. I know that I owe you at least that much, love."

His eyes were burning again, and he turned away for fear that he might start weeping. He didn't want Vincent to see it…didn't want to emotionally blackmail him. He'd become a pitiful reaper, indeed. It made no difference how much he declared his love to him. He had done him an evil that he could not easily undo, and his love meant nothing to the Earl right now.

Vincent swallowed, "I won't make such an agreement until after I know the situation and I understand it. However, I'll agree to make my decision with a level head, and not let my emotions run away with me. I'll stay until I know that It is what I choose, and not that I am simply upset with you." he glanced up at Undertaker, "Would that suffice?"

Undertaker thought on it. What more could he offer? What more could he expect? He finally gave the Earl a painful, slow nod. "As you wish, my lord."

Vincent nodded and sighed, "…Can you help me up off the floor? I'm not down here by my choosing. It seems…three years out of my body is a bit much."

"Yes, of course."

Undertaker put his arms around his ex and he helped him up to his feet. There was one problem though; he couldn't seem to let go of him. Feeling Vincent's embrace again—even just for this simple purpose—had him drowning in nostalgia. He hugged him tighter, rubbing his cheek against the Earl's. He smelled good. He smelled…well…like Vincent. Like "home". It was an odd concept to the ancient reaper; one that he'd never completely understood before Vincent Phantomhive became his lover. He didn't want to let him go, and he wondered if the embrace at least felt familiar to him.

It did. The actions of the reaper sent a spark of familiarity through the former human, filling him with the urge to pull himself closer to the man, though he didn't quite understand why he felt such a way. It could have been because it had been so long since he had felt the touch of another. It was comforting, and he didn't want it to end.

He closed his eyes, savoring the contact, breathing in a deep breath; and with it, Undertaker's scent. The mortician went still with surprise for a moment, having braced himself for rejection. He began to stroke the other man's back with slow, soothing motions, wary of spooking him off. It felt like Christmas, and this was the gift to end all gifts for him. He almost wish he had a piece of coal to shove down Vincent's trousers, just to see if it would ring a bell and bring back more memories for him.

"I can't tell you how much I've missed this," murmured the ancient. "Just speaking with you and holding you, and having you do the same in return…it's like a dream, love. I'd rather stay asleep forever, if it is."

"…You missed this…" Vincent muttered, shifting against the reaper, "…What am I to you? You act so familiar…but then you pull away and act as if its just a job to bring me back…which is it?"

"It's complicated," sighed the reaper. "Well, not really. It's only complicated because of the station you once had and my position in your life…as well as what I am. You were an Earl following the Queen's orders, hunting down criminals and solving cases presented to you by Her Majesty. I was your family informant, and eventually, you and I became lovers. Your wife was aware of the truth of our relationship behind closed doors, but we kept it a secret from the rest of the world. Rachel was fine with it too, bless her sweet heart. She once confessed to me that at least she knew whose bed you were in when you were not in her own, and unlike other noblemen's wives, she would never have to worry about you siring bastards all over Europe."

Undertaker grinned at the memories. "I recall telling her that we kept trying for a baby but it simply wasn't working." The mortician chuckled nostalgically, and he imitated Rachel's gentle, breathy voice. "'_Oh, you silly mortician. Whatever shall we do with you? As a student of anatomy, you know very well that two men cannot make babies together._'"

The mortician sighed. "I do miss her, your wife. She was a good egg."

Vincent stayed silent a moment, letting the words sink in. They didn't feel wrong or deceitful. They felt right, and seemed to help sooth his unsettled soul. They helped him relax a little bit more, and helped him know he could trust this man.

"I still can't remember your name…You have given me my name, my son's, my late wife's…but not yours."

"Oh, silly me," chuckled the reaper. "Well, you've always known me as the Undertaker, but I did go by another name once…quite long ago. I had all but forgotten it and I never shared it with you before, but I think it's long past time for me to do so. Khronos; that was the name they once called me. My, that sounds odd on my lips. It's only the second time I've spoken it aloud for over fifty years."

"Just how old are you?" Vincent asked, surprised by the 'fifty years' comment. The man didn't look all that old at all, save the color of his hair. "And…you are telling me, I was having an affair with a man I didn't even know his name?"

"Old as balls…and I wouldn't really call what we had together an 'affair'," corrected the mortician. "That would imply something illicit one does behind the back of an unsuspecting spouse. No, Rachel knew about us and gave us her blessing, odd as that may sound. As for the name…well…"

He shrugged helplessly. "You knew my name. You just didn't know the name I had before we met. If I'd thought it was important back then, I would have shared it with you…but I've been the Undertaker for a good spell now and I never really considered asking you to call me anything else. You had a slew of pet names for me, too, but I never went around answering to 'sexy-boots' for anyone else."

Vincent felt his cheeks heat as a hue of red colored them, his mouth hung open slightly, his lip twitching as he searched for his words and hoping whatever came out was intelligent.

"Why on Earth would I call you 'Sexy Boots'?"

Undertaker smirked, seeing more of the Vincent he remembered coming out in the doll. "That would be because of these." He grabbed a handful of his long black garments and tugged them up to expose his buckle-laden, thigh-high boots to view. Vincent's gaze fixated on them and the reaper could see that familiar expression of fascination spreading over his handsome features.

"You had a bit of a thing for my boots," reminded the mortician, holding back a snicker. "Seems you still might."

"My lack of memories don't change who I am…it just means I need to remember things." Vincent pointed our, looking back up at him, "And that it'd take time for me to be able to fall back into my life—or a life… Whether or not I call you 'Sexy Boots' is debatable."

"Believe it or not, you had a fairly wicked sense of humor yourself," said the mortician, "though I confess you were a bit in your cups the one time you called me 'Sexy Boots'. I'm not sure you would recall it even if you weren't suffering a form of amnesia right now."

He sighed and sobered a bit, dropping his robes and combing his bangs back out of his eyes to look at Vincent again. "Do you feel you might be ready to load up and be on our way? I'd prefer to get gone before sunrise. Our host and his dinner guests won't sleep forever."

Vincent nodded, "Though it makes me wonder why we have to leave without bidding this 'host' a good evening. You have much to explain to me, Undertaker." He knew he'd been given another name to call the reaper, but 'Undertaker' seemed more natural to him.

"Because our host would recognize you if he saw you," explained the mortician, "and though he's proven a useful and amusing ally, Druitt likes to talk…a lot. I'd rather not take the chance of him or any of his guests putting the word out that the Queen's Watchdog is back from the dead. Trust me, darlin', it's better that we leave quietly in the night. I'll answer more of your questions while we're on the road."

Vincent nodded, "Where will we be going?" he asked, "If I was as well known as it seems I was, I imagine there are not many places we could go unless I stay locked up out of view."

"Out into the country," answered the mortician. "Into the forest, in fact…near the moors. It's not terribly far from London…or the Phantomhive Estate, for that matter. I thought you wouldn't want to go too far from your son, so I set up a place in between. The paths are overgrown enough that nobody's likely to come poking around, and I've got some tricks in place to hide our little cottage from anyone that doesn't already know where it is."

He probably could have conducted his work there if he wanted, rather than live in Viscount Druitt's basement. He chose not to though. The thought of having his Earl living in a place where he'd raised the dead in order to find the key to his resurrection put a sour taste in his mouth. Besides, the Viscount funded the entire operation. It might have taken him years longer to achieve this, without that financial aid.

The former watchdog nodded, "I'm sure…once I remember more of my son I'd want to stay closer to him…and see him again. I already do, to be honest…he may help me remember."

Undertaker nodded, though he had reservations about reuniting Vincent with his son too soon. "First, I need to explain some things to you about your son's current situation and what you can expect when you see him. As I said before; I wouldn't advise you to approach him in person right away, Vincent. If not for you own sake, than for the boy's. I'm sure seeing you alive again would brighten his gloomy days, but if he sees no recognition in your eyes when you look at him…well, that's a cruel thing to do to a child…even one as resilient as Ciel."

The reaper patted his former lover on the arm a bit awkwardly. It was strange, not knowing how to interact with this man. It seemed like such a short time ago when he could just embrace him or kiss him at will in private. His body wanted him to do those things, but his mind cautioned him against it. He was vaguely surprised that his mind still retained enough common sense to do so.

"Well, you just rest for a moment while I take our things to the carriage and get it ready to go, love. I know your legs must be on the shaky side and I wouldn't want you to have a nasty fall. Your strength will come back once your muscles get used to being used again."

"…Three years…" Vincent nodded, looking down at his scarred hand—the proof that he'd foolishly had tried to stop a bullet with it discoloring the skin. It was amazing that it was a scar at all. a dead body doesn't heal wounds. The Undertaker must have done something to let his skin heal over. It wasn't surprising as the reaper had brought him back from the dead. Not just that—but brought him back in his own body.

He waited silently as Undertaker gathered his things he wished to take with him and hurried them to the carriage. His own thoughts starting to wander and search for the memories locked away somewhere within his mind.

However, too much deep thought seemed to irritate his head, resulting in a headache, so he chose to wait until he was a little more used to having a body again.

~xox~

After loading up the carriage and sneaking Vincent quietly out of the manor and into it, Undertaker jumped in the driver's seat and snapped the reins. It wasn't the most luxurious ride in the world; it was actually his wagon, and it was pulled by a donkey. The obnoxious he-hawing of the animal would have surely woken up anyone in a natural slumber, but the viscount and his guests remained thoroughly konked out.

"Sun's going to come up before we reach our destination," predicted the mortician over his shoulder. He'd piled some blankets into the back to cushion his passenger a bit for the ride, and he had a tarp laid out over the top of it to protect from rain. There were clouds moving in from the east, and he could hear the distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. "So be sure to stay covered up. Sorry about the smell, love…and the bumpy ride. I use this cart to transport apothecary goods. I could have nicked one of the viscount's fancy coaches, but that would have just caused trouble."

He was vaguely thankful that Vincent didn't yet recall enough of his old life to remember he never would have ridden in such a rickety piece of driftwood. At least, he _hoped_ so.

"Why didn't you awaken me during the day? Surely it would have been better if we didn't end up sleeping through the day." Vincent yawned, pulling one blanket up and around himself, "For a dead man, I'm very tired…"

"Because for one, I wasn't sure how sensitive your eyes would be to daylight," explained the reaper. "For another, I couldn't very well sneak you out of there in broad daylight, while everyone was up and about. Well, I might have, but given the viscount takes appointments all day long, someone was bound to come by and wonder why the master of the estate and his help were all passed out."

Undertaker clicked the reins again to make the donkey move faster. "Go ahead and rest a bit if you need to, my lord. It will take a bit of time for your strength to come back, and you haven't eaten anything yet. I'll stop once we're off the main road and you can try having a nibble."

"The late evening, then." Vincent shrugged, shifting himself and closing his tired eyes, only to open them again, "…Aren't you afraid I won't wake up again if I fall asleep?"

"Not particularly," answered the mortician with confidence. "Trust me, Vincent; I researched and tested the procedure I used to bring you back extensively, before going through with it on you. I spared no expense or effort to ensure I would get as close to perfection as possible. The only thing that didn't turn out as expected is your loss of memory; but I think that's due to the damage your brain sustained from the shot that killed you. You've been frozen in time since I found you and took you out of that mansion. I've got every reason to believe that the damage will heal over time, and you'll regain access to those parts of your records that are blocked to you right now."

Styx, but he hoped so. He could give Vincent a more thorough examination when they reached their destination and perform some tests, but thus far the memory loss seemed to be the only sign of diminished facilities. His reflexes seemed good enough, his speech was clear and concise, and he was demonstrating that fine Phantomhive logic that made his family such excellent tacticians. Aside from the memory loss and the muscle weakness—the latter of which was perfectly normal in his situation—Vincent wasn't demonstrating any signs of deterioration.

Vincent nodded and closed his eyes again, "Then I'll let myself rest." he yawned once more and shifted his arm under his head to use as a pillow, "I'll trust your judgment…"

Though he made a mental note to question the reaper further on the matter of his 'testing'.

~xox~

"This is maddening," complained William with a sigh. He rubbed his forehead and he checked his watch. Ronald had woken up again—he'd allowed him to sleep without interruption—and the blond was pouring over secondary reports while William read over and filed away the primary ones. There had apparently been sightings of a man matching the Undertaker's description, driving a broken-down cart along the outskirts of London. Agents sent to investigate turned up empty-handed, however.

"The trail couldn't just…vanish." William put down the document he was reading over and he tapped his pen against his chin, frowning. "But perhaps it could. Undertaker is a sly one, and his tricks seem boundless."

He read over the latest report again and he shook his head. Fog. How could _fog_ possibly deter Shinigami agents? When they'd followed the trail to the alleged sighting, they'd run into a thick wall of it…so dense they couldn't even see the road.

William curled his hands into his immaculately groomed hair, inadvertently mussing it in his frustration. "How does he _do_ it?"

"By being an old slippery bugger…" Ronald muttered, flipping through his own pile of papers. "I wonder though… Has anyone checked with that Viscount he had been working with on the ship? I haven't come across any mention of him and I know he didn't drown or anything… maybe we should look into that guy?" He set down the papers in his hand and looked up at William, "Make sure he hasn't been in contact with the Undertaker since the ship."

"Recent reports from the Yard state that there hasn't been any odd activity from him, nor have their been any reports of a gentleman fitting the Undertaker's description associating with him." William sighed again. "Having said that, I think I agree with you. We should send our own agents to investigate the Druitt estate—if for no other reason than to be thorough. Human law enforcement cannot be counted on for our purposes."

On that note, he picked up his office phone and dialed the number for Personnel. "Hello, this is Dispatch Supervisor William T. Spears. I would like to send agents to the following address…but instruct them to dress as investigators of the Yard so as not to rouse suspicions. Yes? Hmm…I think this should be a mild enough assignment for Mr. Slingby and his partner, Mr. Humphries. Yes…understood. If that is the case, send Mr. Sutcliff, instead."

He winced even as he suggested Grell…but overall, the redhead was a seasoned agent and he did on occasion demonstrate enough self-restraint to get the job done properly. "Inform me at once when you have confirmation. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and he looked at Ronald, spreading his hands gracefully. "I think this is the best we can hope to accomplish, at this point."

"Better to double check rather than to miss out on a lead." Ron nodded, "Too bad we didn't think of it sooner. Who knows, it could have saved us some time…then again, we may not have had such a nice coffee break." he smirked, teasingly as he reclined on the sofa and propped his feet up on the table.

William shared his smirk. "It was a nice coffee break, indeed."

And he intended to replicate it again at his earliest convenience. Right now though, he needed to concentrate on the investigation at hand.

"I'm glad you agree." The youthful reaper smiled, picking back up his current stack of papers, tucking his pen behind his ear so he could stay in his comfortable position. "We'll do it again sometime, then." he added with a sly wink.

~xox~

-To be continued


End file.
